The Odd Couple: The Adventures of Leon and Gwaine
by May Glenn
Summary: First in the "Friday Knights" series: AU from end of S3. While Arthur is away on honeymoon, Gwaine and Leon get used to working with each other and deal with a goblin infestation in Camelot... No slash.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_This is from a play by post RP between my sister (B.A. Murdock here) and myself, with another friend, joining us later on. So in addition to the usual disclaimer of not owning the BBC's _Merlin_, I do not own a good 2/3 of this story, I am merely the lucky one who gets to post it and share it with you all.

This is an alternate universe from the finale of Season 3, so spoilers to that point: the main changes being that Arthur is King, Guinevere is Queen, and Lancelot is still alive.

…And, of course, Leon and Gwaine are bigger characters.

_**WARNINGS**_: No slash, though there will eventually be a gay relationship (there _is_ a difference). Language, violence, and sexual content slightly amped up from what we expect from _Merlin_.

…

**THE ODD COUPLE: THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LEON AND SIR GWAINE**

…

_"It is exceptional and difficult to find in one man all the qualities necessary for a great general. That which is most desirable and instantly sets a man apart, is that his intelligence or talent be balanced by his character or courage. If his courage is the greater, a general heedlessly undertakes things beyond his ability. If on the contrary his character or courage is less than his intelligence, he does not dare carry out his plans."_  
>—Napoleon Bonaparte.<p>

…

"The King will see you now, my lord."

Sir Leon had to work hard to keep his grin of excitement off his face as he nodded to the squire and entered King Arthur's study. Though he knew it was silly, he felt like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. He could feel butterflies twittering in his stomach as he bowed before Arthur, and flashed a very brief smile to Gwen at his side. They made a handsome couple, now even more so, still dressed in the formal wear of the wedding that morning and their cheeks still glowing with excitement. The King and Queen beamed at him. Merlin bustled about the room, too busy packing for more than a nod at Leon.

"Ah! Sir Leon!" Arthur said amiably. "Sorry for calling on you at such short notice."

"Not at all, sire."

"Good old Leon! How did all the knights like the wedding feast? Spectacular, eh? I hope you tried the venison, Gwen says it was marvelous! And I've no idea how Merlin got those fireworks to go off in the hall!" He gave a boisterous laugh, obviously quite drunk with more things than bridegroom pleasure on his wedding night.

"It was very fine, sire."

"And as for the company! I don't believe I've ever seen so much dancing in Camelot in my life! Though I hear the night was better for some than others!" He slapped Leon on the shoulder, who colored instantly: he had not thought that the king actually noticed him introducing himself to Elaine, Lord Bernard's daughter. He himself had been quite drunk at the time, or he would have never spoken to her—he had worshipped the girl for several years in silence.

He certainly did not want to talk about his love life in front of a man six years his junior, King or no. He tried to think of a good excuse. "Well, my lord—"

"I'm sure Sir Leon does not need to restate the night's festivities," Gwen said, catching Leon's eye with sympathy.

"Of course!" Arthur said, winking nonetheless. "Never mind, never mind. I'll leave you to it! I am leaving you to it, in fact! You know, of course, as Captain of the Round Table Knights, you will act as a steward for me while we're on honeymoon. And since we're taking Merlin with us, that should uncomplicate your life somewhat," Arthur laughed as Merlin made a face at the King.

Leon's heart caught in his throat. He hadn't expected it to be so suddenly presented to him! But there was no time for embarrassed surprise. He'd never get another chance like this—in every way he had to be the best steward Camelot had ever known. "I—I thank you, sire, for the privilege—I swear to look after Camelot with all the wisdom and discernment I possess, and—"

"Yes, yes, yes," Arthur said, interrupting him in the middle of his oath. "I know you'll do fine. Now, I've told Gwaine to meet you here tomorrow morning, and you can start getting the kingdom ready for my reign when I return. How long do you think we'll be, Gwen? A fortnight…?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, I suppose a fortnight is far too short a time. Make it a month. On second thought, leave our arrival date unfixed."

"No, I mean—" Leon stammered, "E—But, Sir Gwaine, my lord? Should I not seek the council of all the Knights of the Round Table in my decisions?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, Leon!" Arthur said. "But since Gwaine is to be steward as well, I think you ought to work together fairly closely."

Leon blinked. "Gwaine? A steward?"

"Yes, I want you both to work together."

"Together?" he said weakly.

"Yes! It was Merlin's idea."

"Merlin's?"

"Really Leon, you sound like a bloody parrot!"

"But—" Leon didn't know whether to feel disgusted or terrified. "Why?"

"I didn't really want to get into this," Arthur said irritably, "But the truth is, Leon, you do act like the castle whetnurse sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Leon exclaimed, and just barely remembered to add, "Sire."

"You're too cautious, Leon. Loyal and brave to be sure, but you've got to learn to work in difficult situations. You've been looking after me like a nanny since I was twelve, but ruling a kingdom requires the iron glove and quick mind. Tradition's all well and good, but Gwaine's seen more of the world than you, and he knows a thing or two about making decisions quickly from the gut, without having to take the time to think them through."

"My lord, with all due respect, Gwaine is far too reckless, and he's somewhat of a vagabond!"

"I'm sure he'd take that as a compliment."

Leon started feeling as if he was losing ground. "But—I thought—this was meant to be a test—"

"It is! For both of you, really. You know, if you can get through three months or so without killing one another I did plan to give you some of the South woods each."

"The South woods?"

"There you go parroting again! I know how fond you are of those woods." He grinned and slapped Leon on the shoulder again. "Don't worry, Leon! We all have complete faith in you. Oh, remember to get someone to lock the gates on our way out."

…

Gwaine woke from the blurry oppression of sleep whose haze he knew only too well. She was a fine mistress, certainly, though an exacting one: but good or ill, drink had been his mistress this night.

And oh, what a night.

Gwaine judged the successes of last night upon waking entangled in five or so bodies, attired, as he was, as poor hermits with not a scrap of cloth to their name. What a holy night it must have been, then, ha ha! He was certain he remembered taking the Lord's name quite often.

Blinking sluggishly, Gwaine surveyed his companions: four were attractive, the last passable and—_ooh, okay, not actually a woman. Oops._

Gwaine shrugged, too hungover just now to care about anything other than acquiring a tankard of water. He carefully extricated himself from the still-sleeping pile, found his clothes (or what he guessed were his clothes) and dressed sloppily. It was a holiday, right? Drinks on the house during holidays, he was sure that was a rule. But, you know, best to shin down the drain to avoid an encounter with the innkeeper just to be on the safe side. The last time his pocketbook could keep pace with him, he hadn't been tall enough to reach the bar.

Which, okay, all short jokes aside, had been quite some time ago. It was really sad how rarely he got truly rip-roaring-mad-drunk anymore, simply because he couldn't afford it. Princess—oh, sorry, Prince—rather, _King_ Arthur's wedding to the lovely Gwen was the perfect excuse.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something. Probably important. It usually was, when he couldn't remember.

Oh, well. First things first.

"God, Owen, you're up early!" Gwaine exclaimed as he staggered over to his favorite baker's cart.

"Gwaine, lad! Early? Half the town may be abed, but they day's still gone on. It's nearing midday."

"Is it?" Gwaine squinted up for the first time, a bad idea, as the clearly noonday sun blinded him. "Oh. So it is! And what a beautiful day!"

"So what'll it be? The usual?"

"Oh, Owen," Gwaine moaned, holding his belly dramatically, "take pity on a man who had far too much of a good thing last night! I'll have two pies, a jam butty, and a, em, sausage roll."

"Aye, I'll have it right up."

"And for the love of our Dear Lord in Heaven and the name of King Arthur, Baker, could I beg you for a cup of water?"

Owen Baker shook his head and grinned. "For you, Sir Gwaine, anything."

"Ah-ah, and I told you about the 'Sir' thing. Unofficial business here."

"Right. Undercover, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's right. Undercover, that's me." _Under __**covers**__, more like! _Gwaine giggled and accepted the greasy paper-wrapped food, but took the cup of water greedily, and drank it down first. "Oh, thank you, you're a life saver. What's the damage?"

"Three pence."

"Here's four," Gwaine offered, still feeling guilty about the bar tab, but taking comfort in the knowledge that despite his successful escape the bill would eventually be sent to Arthur or, well, probably in the meantime, Leon, who—

Sir Leon.

"Bugger!"

…

Leon sat quietly in King Arthur's study, forcing himself not to look at the door or out the window. It was a bitter struggle, and to pass the time he pulled out a journal and started to write.

_Steward's Log, Day 1._

_Awaiting the arrival of my…_ Here he paused for a moment before he forced himself to write,_ fellow knight Sir Gwaine, who will be working with me to rule Camelot while Arthur is away on honeymoon. First order of business shall be to discuss our action plan._

He nodded at this, particularly proud of "action plan"—It sounded very "iron glove". He continued.

_Second, shall be informing the knights and dividing duties, to more effectively see to Camelot's needs. Third, shall be execution of those duties: recruit training, establishing the new budget, accommodating the wedding guests, and executing Gwaine for being late to his own meeting—_

He scratched that out quickly until it was illegible, and sat back with a sigh. Gwaine was all right, of course. Arthur and Merlin liked him very much, and so Leon had always tried to be polite and respectful to the man. But despite his strong personality of friendliness Gwaine always seemed to treat him a little warily. Which was ridiculous—why should he distrust a knight of Camelot—the Captain of the Round Table, of all people? Perhaps it was because he didn't exactly trust Gwaine, either. After all, what did he know about the Code of Chivalry?

Leon glanced out the window, again measuring the height of the sun in the sky with his hands. Gwaine certainly did not know how to arrive on time for a meeting.

He was being rude and foolish. Perhaps Gwaine had gotten himself into some sort of trouble? What if an accident occurred during last night's meeting? What if he was injured somewhere?

Suddenly restless, Leon stood up and went to the window, scanning the courtyard below for any sign that someone may have gotten hurt last night. But there were no worried maids running across the courtyard, no sign of Gaius hobbling urgently to his apothecary. He just saw the knights training like they usually did.

Though—that was very strange—they did not usually go to training without him…

Just then he saw a chestnut-haired figure jump out from behind a tower shield, and order the knights into formation.

It was Gwaine!

"What the—?" Leon spluttered. Then he sighed, and, careful to grab his journal, ran off toward the stairs.

...

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**_: Hope you're enjoying the shenanigans so far. Here's the next installment. Also we were wondering if you can tell the writers apart.

…

THE FRIDAY KNIGHTS

…

THE ODD COUPLE: THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LEON AND SIR GWAINE

…

Gwaine had almost run past the training grounds—stuffing his mouth with the last pie and waving animatedly at Elyan, hurrying in order to meet with Sir Leon as Arthur had requested—when an idea struck him.

It was ridiculous to show up to a rendezvous three hours late, especially if that rendezvous was with Sir Leon. The only thing he could do about it now was try and make it up to him: putting the knights through their paces was just such a way. Gwaine rarely displayed such initiative, and began to feel more than a little proud of himself for thinking of it. Leon might even forgive him for the missed meeting. They'd just have to have their meeting some other time, maybe over drinks.

"Well, now, Percy," he greeted, taking two swords from the rack and greeting the towering knight, "tell me, how was your evening? Have we got a giant-sized hangover to go with that barrel of ale I saw you after last night?"

Sir Percival perhaps looked a shade paler than usual, but he smirked at Gwaine's jab. He wasn't one of the most talkative knights, so Gwaine was surprised to get an answer. "Would you like to test me, Sir Gwaine?"

"I would love nothing better. Nothing like the taste of cold steel in the morning, 'eh?" He tried not to be astounded at the sheer size of the sword that Percival drew from behind his back—but he didn't try very hard. "Now where the bloody hell'd you get that thing?"

"Do you like it?"

"Like it? That thing's longer than I am tall! If you want to joust, mate, you'll have to wait while I get my horse." But he was grinning, and stood poised with both swords at the ready.

Gwaine quickly lost himself in the thrill of combat. He'd never had anyone to train with like this, growing up. No, it was always a new opponent, and always death waiting on the other side of a slip-up. So it was fun to get knocked about by and knock around men he called friends. He even let them win a few bouts.

He was sparring with Elyan now, although that wasn't strictly true, of course, because at this point they had both ditched their weapons in favor of rolling about in the dirt, and the other knights stood around them cheering and laughing as the sparring match turned into a beautiful brawl. Gwaine was just getting the upper hand again (after getting his hair pulled unmercifully) when suddenly the cheering around them grew quieter and then died out completely.

Gwaine looked up, the grin fading from his face.

"Ahh, Sir Leon! Was wondering when you'd turn up!"

…

Leon blinked at Gwaine grinning in the dirt. People (usually Arthur) criticized him for making what he called "a face like a puppy" when bewildered, but he felt himself making it now. "What are you doing?"

Gwaine forced a laugh and jumped up, flipping his hair back out of his eyes. "Er—alright, everyone! Dogpile Lancelot!" When the knights laughed and ran off to tackle the hapless Lancelot he pulled Leon aside. "Look, since I was a little late to our meeting—"

"You missed it by three hours," Leon said, still in the bewildered stage of repeating the facts he had trouble accepting.

"Yes, yes!" Gwaine said, looking a trifle hurt that he brought it up, "But I thought I'd make it up to you by starting the men with some training! What do you think?"

Leon glanced at the knights—his knights—now laughing in a pile in the dirt. "I think we have a different idea of what constitutes training."

"What? Don't you knights learn how to brawl? Strange, it comes in handy all the time for me!"

Leon shook his head. "Anyway, that's not the point. King Arthur left very clear orders that we were to meet before seeing the men."

"What difference does it make?"

"I'm the captain of the knights. You're going to give them the wrong idea…."

"What wrong idea?"

Gwaine's face was the picture of innocence. Leon and Gwaine turned as Elyan extricated himself from the pile, and before Leon could dismiss him, the others followed suit, gathering around them.

Gwaine didn't seem to mind at all. "Well, no time like the present to set them straight, eh Leon?" He turned to the men and threw a companionable arm over Leon's shoulders—or at least as far as he could reach. "Arthur left Sir Leon and I in charge during his honeymoon."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Why you?"

"Why not me?" Gwaine said, beginning to look uncomfortable.

"You're just like the rest of us," Lancelot said. "I mean—Sir Leon's alright, he's been Arthur's second and all that. But what makes you the best of all of us?"

Gwaine glared at Leon, who threw up his hands.

"They said it, not me," he said quickly, though he hoped he didn't look as pleased as he felt. At least he wasn't the only one who thought putting Gwaine in charge was a bad idea.

"I'm sure Arthur had his reasons…" Gwaine began.

"It's because I'm the blacksmith, isn't it?" Elyan said. "It's never the blacksmith…"

"I'm sure that's not it," Leon said. He had high hopes for where this conversation would drift. Lancelot, being rather egalitarian himself, might propose that the knights rule by committee, which Gwaine would no doubt readily agree with—and, as Lancelot said, being Arthur's second would naturally give Leon more sway and he could get on with looking after Camelot without having to deal with these power issues. It would be best for everyone.

So when Gwaine abruptly said, "Fine, how about you fight me for it?" Leon felt his heart sink.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah, it's a good idea, right? Any of you knights that think you'd do a better job than me at being a steward can fight me for the privilege. Anyone who can beat me gets the job. I'm sure he chose me because I'm the strongest."

"Ah—er—" Leon said, trying to control the situation, "I don't think that's such a good idea—"

"What, scared, Leon?" Percy laughed, slapping him hard on the back.

"Oh, you're exempt, of course!" Gwaine said, flashing him a smile. "After all, by the time you got your armor on I'll have beaten these lads and gone for lunch!"

And with that Leon had to duck as Percy dove for Gwaine, and nothing he could say made the knights stop from joining in.

…

Gwaine had to admit he was taking an awful risk. You didn't tell a man who caused rockslides that you were stronger than him. You didn't tell a blacksmith you packed more of a punch than he did. You didn't try to tell a commoner who had earned himself a knighthood that you were fitter than he to lead men.

Well, you didn't if you were _smart_, anyway.

Gwaine sidestepped the charge from the giant, and used the man's momentum to bring him down. But Percival wasn't so easily dissuaded, and was halfway up again before Gwaine was on him. He had no weapon or armor to even out the playing field here, so it was just strength against strength.

Which, okay, was a bad idea when you were fighting a strapping six-footer from the lower towns.

Still, he had a few tricks up his sleeve yet. Gwaine was also heavily banking on being, one, the most sober man in the melee, and certainly, two, the most accustomed to functioning with a hangover.

So despite being half Percy's size, even in straight strength they were almost matched—and as for combative skill, well, Gwaine lived and breathed the stuff. He fought not for glory, honor, or riches, not for the love of a woman, nor (until very recently) for king and country: Gwaine fought simply because he _liked_ fighting.

Percival was a farm-boy: strong, but not primarily a fighter. He was down for the count after being held in a headlock until he saw stars.

Elyan was a blacksmith: same again. Though he had opted for a sword-and-shield approach, Gwaine used his signature steal-the-sword attack, which encouraged Elyan to give it up.

Lancelot was his match, well-trained and highly experienced, but Lancelot had lofty pretentions to chivalry and he never ever fought dirty. Which, you know, if you aren't cheating, you aren't trying, right? So when Gwaine pulled Lance's hair and tweaked his nose, it got a laugh out of the knights and the nobler man didn't see it coming, so was easily jerked around until he had been relieved of his weapon and ended up flat on his back.

"Well," Gwaine said, grinning and puffing as he looked around at his audience. His shoulder hurt where Percival had punched him and then Lancelot had yanked on him, but he wasn't about to rub it in front of them. "Anyone else like to have a go at questioning the King's judgment?"

The men looked chagrined, and no one else stepped forward.

"Sir! Gwaine!"

The shout was startling only because it came from Sir Leon, who hardly ever shouted. If you weren't listening closely, it might have been simply his drill-master tone, which he used to get men to form up and present arms and all that. But Gwaine, who was in the doghouse already and was sensitive to the possibility of hostility there, heard something else in the voice. The smoldering blue eyes (_since when could Leon "smolder"?_) said it, too.

_We need to talk.  
><em>  
>"I need to speak with you in the King's throne room. Carry on with your exercises, men. We will return shortly."<p>

_'We need to talk'_? Gwaine was startled first as how or why he knew this Look, until of course he realized he'd seen it on the faces of his countless paramours (usually when they found out about each others' existences_).'We need to talk'_ meant nothing good.

The rest of the knights gathered around him, whispering, as Leon turned and stalked off, expecting to be followed. Percival patted him on the (bad) shoulder sympathetically. "What's got into him?" Elyan wondered.

"Is he mad at you, too?" Lancelot teased, friendly enough, though he was still glowering and rubbing his offended nose.

Gwaine squinted. "I think he's breaking up with me."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_ Thanks to all who reviewed! Hope you are enjoying this as much as we did! It is actually all finished, so it's just a matter of updating. We will try to update once a day, so check back often!

...

Leon entered the throne room, somewhat agitated but trying to see this unpleasant situation from Gwaine's…alternate point of view. After all, poor Gwaine knew practically nothing about Camelot, when you came down to it.

"Look," he said as Gwaine entered behind him. "I understand this all must be very new to you. But that isn't how we do things here."

"What, the show of force?" Gwaine replied, still clearly riding high off his victories, though at least he had the decency to attempt a penitent look. "You know I really am sorry about that, but sometimes they just need to be shown who's top dog, am I right?" Still, Gwaine clapped Leon firmly on the shoulder, grinning.

"Not like that, I hope." He sighed. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. But I am responsible for the knights, and Camelot follows a strict code of conduct at all times-you can't just...go off on an idea like that!"

Gwaine's grin widened, if that was possible. (It was, unfortunately, always possible). "But it worked, didn't it?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, but Leon wasn't in a playful mood, and he quickly changed the subject. "All right, well, might as well have that 'meeting' now, yeah? What's our action plan?" He hopped up on the table and crossed his legs: presumably his down-to-business stance, which looked, to Leon, not at all down-to-business.

"Right," Leon said, somewhat surprised at Gwaine's behavior, but he took advantage of the opportunity nonetheless, and pulled out his notebook. "Well, first we will need to divide up our duties. Those include training the new recruits, seeing to the guests, managing the budget…"

"Bored now." Gwaine leaped off the table. "Here's an idea. You take care of all the boring bureaucratic nonsense, and I'll make sure the men get trained. There's an idea, now! You just tick the little things off your list and you tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it! That'll be smashing. Brilliant, well, I'm glad we've got that worked out..." Gwaine made ready to leave.

"H-hold on!" Leon said, bewildered. "There's more to it than that! Arthur said—"

"Yeah, but Arthur's not here." Gwaine winked. "So long as Camelot's in one piece when he gets back, I think he'll survive, and be none the wiser. So. I'll go teach the boys a hangover cure, and you let me know when I need to start booting the nobs and nobility out the front gates. We have got a catapult, haven't we? Only joking."

"That's not—!" But Gwaine was already skipping down the hallway, and Leon had to admit under his breath, "Alright, that's a bit funny." But he felt bad for thinking it.

Well, his list wouldn't finish itself. He had his meeting with Gwaine, of sorts, and Gwaine "discussed" chain of command with the knights. He glanced over the list, ticking those tasks off. Next: seeing to the needs of the wedding guests. That meant, of course, subtly hinting at them to leave.

'Bureaucratic nonsense' indeed—he'd be more surprised if he survived the day than if Gwaine did training the knights. At least they didn't already know how to kill you….

…

"All right, boys!" Gwaine slapped his hands together as he trotted down the stairs to meet the men.

"Is Mum mad at you, Da?" Elyan joked.

"You sleeping out in the cold again?" Percival teased.

"Don't talk about your mother like that, Percy. It's no wonder she had me over for dinner last night without you!"

A chorus of juvenile "_Ohh_!"s erupted from the knights, followed by laughter as Percival's face colored. Gwaine clapped him on the arm and smiled widely at the group.

"So! King Arthur wants me to see to it that he has the best knights in Albion upon his return. Since he already has the best knights in all of Albion, that is to say he doesn't want you lot getting fat and soft while he's gone!"

The knights laughed again. Which was good.

"All right, then, ladies, gear up! I want everyone in full plate and back here within the hour. And I know we're all hurting so I'll see what I can do about rustling up a hangover cure before you get back. So don't be late or it'll all be gone!"

Gwaine was, rightly, famous for his hangover cure. The recipe was secret, though the ingredients were common, but since he was in desperate need of it himself it wasn't much more difficult to make a cauldron full of it and dole it out. The knights returned with lunches: bread and cheese and various leftovers pinched from the palace kitchens. They had a regular feast, right there on the grass, and it ended up taking them much more than one hour before all of them were ready, fed, hangover-cured, and dressed in full plate mail on the training ground.

"Everyone happy?"

A resounding affirmative.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Then I won't keep you. I just have one training exercise planned for you today—"

He could hear Lancelot whispering to another knight "Right, his seat's getting cold at the Rising Sun, let's see how long this lasts."

Gwaine smiled broadly at him, and Lancelot shut his mouth, unsure if he had been overheard.

"Everyone see the flag behind me?" Gwaine pointed vaguely behind him.

"Yeah," came a few responses.

"Get it down."

"What?" Percival laughed. "You're joking, right?"

Gwaine turned to survey the object again.

"Oh!" he laughed. "Not _that _flag."

The smile was gone from Percival's face.

"I meant _that_ flag!" Gwaine beamed, pointing straight up—_and_ _up _and up—to the topmost tower in all of Camelot. "And I'm not talking stairs, ladies. We're climbing the castle walls. You got a girl you want to impress? This is how you do it. You've got a castle to besiege, again, this is how you do it. This is a highly useful skill that translates directly into the field. And the only way to learn it is to do it." Gwaine hefted a large bundle of rope over his shoulder.

Lancelot stepped forward. "You're serious, Gwaine? The entire castle? In full plate mail? This is insane!"

Gwaine smirked at Sir I'd-Rather-Be-Writing-Sad-Poetry-A-Lot, who looked like he felt he was being made fun of. "Oh, did I mention? First one to the flag gets drinks on me!"

It was like releasing a flood. Rope was pulled out in every which way. Grappling hooks were launched. Ladders were called for (which Gwaine allowed since the tallest of them didn't reach more than a third up the side of the tower). Men climbed and men fell. It probably wasn't safe, actually, but Gwaine felt it would work out in the end.

"Aren't you coming, Gwaine?" Lancelot asked, insisting he was still being teased until, presumably, he saw Gwaine making the attempt himself.

"Of course, darling, just wanted to let you get a head start is all!"


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ Thanks again for your continued support and reviews! Thanks especially to OceanNeil who asked where Merlin was, which made us realize we hadn't been clear enough about that! Merlin's on Arthur and Gwen's honeymoon (yes, that's supposed to sound awkward), and we've now updated the first chapter to make that more clear (and don't worry, he will show up!). Thanks for reading!

…

Leon didn't often go in for hyperbole, and generally reckoned himself to be somewhat on the literal side. So when he thought that Gwaine would have a better time dealing with fresh recruits than he would chatting it up with the most distinguished wedding guests, his assessment wasn't far wrong.

That afternoon Leon played the host, offering his services to the most important guests staying in the castle, and subtly hinting that they ought to start thinking of packing their bags. It was expensive to keep guests at Camelot, and Arthur expressed a wish that they leave as soon as possible after the wedding. Guests of high nobility often came to Camelot, and so Leon was used to performing this kind of duty. To stay in Camelot generally cost the guests a lot of money, too. Of course, the problem with the really prestigious guests was that they felt they didn't have to pay, either.

There was a running joke around Camelot that Leon, being the prince's second in command and thus apparently subject to every nobleman's order, was the castle dogsbody. But he didn't mind so much. A life in Camelot was what his parents always hoped for him, and that alone was enough for Leon to pledge his life to the kingdom and its people. And a job does not make a knight, a knight makes a job. He performed this job so well that sometimes he could convince a newer knight to do it for him. That only worked once or twice—getting guests to hoof it could really be that bad. But it always surprised him how far "please," "thank you," and "my lord" could go to making the task easier.

Lord Bernard's servant didn't treat him with any respect as he waited to see the nobleman, but foreign servants usually didn't. The servant probably hadn't even attended the wedding, and as Leon waited in the front room of the spacious guest chambers he went back to his task of polishing boots. Eventually the lord called from the next room, and Leon entered and bowed.

"Ah, it's Sir Leon, isn't it? Come in!" Lord Bernard beamed, closing the door behind Leon. He was a thick-set man with wild dark hair and a large black beard to match. He had apparently been playing a game of chess with his daughter Elaine, who was sitting by the window looking very pretty in a green dress with her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. She caught him staring and he blushed, and tried to get down to business.

"I was just checking to see if you required anything, my lord," he said.

"Oh, no, my lad—thank you, though! I'm sure Marvin can take care of anything we might need."

"Marvin, my lord?"

"The dark chap! Always trotting about after the King."

"Oh, perhaps you mean Merlin, my lord? He left last night to accompany the King and Queen on their honeymoon. If you need any assistance, my lord, you need only to send for me. Your horses can be made ready within the hour you request them."

"Within the hour? Your King certainly knows how to run a kingdom! Well—what's your name again, lad?"

"Leon, my lord," Leon said, careful to pronounce it clearly. Despite his best efforts he glanced at Elaine again. Was she frowning?—Or just trying very hard not to smile?

"Well, Leon, we thank you for your generosity, but don't you worry about us calling the horses and getting your stable boys in a fluster. We certainly won't be leaving for a good while yet, not until Elaine here has had her fill of shopping in the town!"

Leon's heart caught in his throat. Should he? Dare he? "Well, my lord, if your daughter requires a companion for such a venture, I could—"

"—I'm sure you could find me a lad well enough, but as fine a bunch as your knights are I wouldn't trust them within ten yards of my daughter! Besides, I could do with some of this fresh Camelot air."

Suddenly Elaine spoke up. "You shouldn't want to catch a cold, father," she said. "You do get cold so very easily."

"True, true," Lord Bernard said. "There's something you could do—nip down and get me a nice walking cloak. Nothing too fancy, though I can't abide wool. It'll have to be something softer, but not too light."

Leon's heart sank, but he said, "Of course, my lord," with usual sincerity, and bowed himself out. Buying a cloak for a man who could perfectly well get one himself no matter what his daughter said wasn't as bad as some of the jobs he'd been given.

As he left Lord Bernard's chamber, his vision was suddenly obscured by a pile of clothes.

"Oh, and just take the laundry on your way out," the servant said as the clothes fell in disarray at his feet. "There's a good lad."

Leon blinked, and looked down to be sure he was wearing his livery. The servant sneering at him had no livery at all. For a moment he felt like kicking the clothes back at him, and informing the servant of his noble blood and that he could do his own bloody laundry. But even as he thought it a pang of guilt went through him. He scooped up the clothes and left, feeling that "Camelot's dogsbody" was a fairly accurate description. With the kinds of jobs he took, he was certainly some kind of dog…

…

As much as Gwaine would have longed to just observe the knights climbing, like tiny ants, up the Camelot walls from his favorite window-seat at The Rising Sun, ticking them off with a merry "he passes!" as they reached the top, he knew it would be infinitely more satisfying to actually beat them to the top.

Not to mention the godawful _whining_ he'd have to endure if he didn't participate!

Actually Sir Ector was clipping along at a steady pace, having monopolized a lucky crack in the stonework where handholds were easier. Elyan wasn't far behind him, and Percival close behind both. And Lancelot, for all his whinging, was keeping pretty good pace with Gwaine, tied for fourth place.

But Gwaine was pretty certain he could beat him out when they reached the second line of windows. That was, of course, providing there were no distractions.

Like, say, an attractive noblewoman in a state of undress, perfectly observable through one of these windows. Woman!-Girl, rather! She could hardly be legal! Auburn hair cascaded down her bare back as she shook it out, the longest curl turning up just at the dimples on her hips-and what hips! And such a lovely little waist! Didn't Camelot have laws limiting an individual's attractiveness? He was sure that was why he'd been banished the first time. No matter.

Ooh! Bath time!

"You coming, Gwaine? Ector's almost at the top!" Lancelot puffed, passing him at another window.

Gwaine, forgetting himself, barked out a laugh as if to say "You've got to be joking!" Then many things happened more or less at once, but in a specific order:

First, Elyan had pressed on past Ector and reached the flag, so a chorus of cheers went up from the onlooking knights. Next, by luck or perhaps from the force of the shouts, the visor on his helmet, which had been giving him trouble for some time, became unhinged and slipped down over his face. Just in time, because that was when the attractive young lady turned and saw him in this admittedly compromising position.

Then she screamed.

And Gwaine didn't so much _fall_ as let go, knowing how much more preferable it was to deal with cold hard unforgiving earth than it was to deal with nursemaids and fathers protecting a young girl's honor.

And he could blame it on instinct that he craned his neck to get one last peek.

He might have reconsidered if he'd bothered to look behind him, as on his descent he clipped not just one but two ledges and broke through at least three awnings. It was probably convenient that they were there-he was higher up than he thought-but when he finally landed, flat on his back, he was bruised, battered, winded, and not at all sorry.

Knights were repelling, sliding, climbing down the castle walls en masse now, and although Lancelot's controlled decent landed him somewhere very near Gwaine's head, he couldn't summon the energy to care just yet.

Over his groan, he heard a voice.

"Hey!" Lancelot said to him, "How'd you get down here so fast?"

…

"What do you think?"

Leon held up an classic-style gray cloak in front of him, and watched Gaius's face closely. Gwen might have helped him out in this situation, but since she was gone he found himself at Gaius's apothecary for advice.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "You aren't that old, Leon."

"It's for Lord Bernard."

"Oh! Then, yes-very nice. Wouldn't mind having one myself."

"You'll be hard-pressed to find one like this." He held it out for Gaius to feel. "It's rabbit fur."

"So it is! It's not many a man who could make such a distinction—you're going to make a fine catch for a lady someday!"

Leon chuckled and started folding up the cloak. Gaius went back to his potions-or so it appeared.

"…Lord Bernard's daughter, for instance. She's very pretty, isn't she? Not so flashy as Morgana was, but she has real noble bearing."

"Er-yes, she does."

"Now, she'd make a fine catch. I hear she's very charming, should you get to know her…"

Leon looked up. "What are you suggesting?"

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Now, Leon, I know you're old enough to understand that. You ought to be settling down, you know. I think Lady Elaine could make you very happy—"

"I'll consider it," he said, more as something to end that line of conversation.

Gaius only shrugged. "How are you and Gwaine getting on?"

"Like a house on fire." Leon glanced out the window, where he saw Gwaine and the knights fooling about in the courtyard. "I'm in charge of the castle, though—so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Of course, Sir Leon," Gaius said, with somewhat feigned submission. "Though I wouldn't say that too loudly."

"Why not?"

"It's a big responsibility, watching out for a kingdom. You and Gwaine should work together."

"Arthur would not have appointed me if he did not think I was up to the task."

"Hmm. Lord Bernard's looking for you, by the way."

"Oh, I'd better get this cloak to him, then. Thanks, Gaius."

Gaius nodded vaguely as he left the apothecary. Lord Bernard, in fact, was coming down the hall toward him.

"Sir Leon! Just the man I wanted to see!" Lord Bernard boomed. Leon shied a little but pulled the cloak out quickly.

"Here is your cloak, my lord," he said, smiling hopefully. "See—it's not wool, its rabbit fur, and—"

"Enough of cloaks!"

Leon lowered the cloak. "Yes, my lord."

"Cloaks is not what I wish to speak to you about!"

Leon could feel his grin fading. "No, my lord?"

"No!" Lord Bernard suddenly wheeled around. "I will see you in the throne room, if I may! It is somewhat delicate in nature!"

"Ah. Right."

And Leon led the way, his mind racing.

_Who did I leave I charge while I was gone? No one. I didn't think anyone needed to be in charge for one bloody afternoon!_

_Wait. Gwaine was in charge._

_Damn._


	5. Chapter 5

"And that, boys, is how it's done!" Gwaine beamed.

"What, the falling?" Lancelot smirked.

"_That_," Gwaine corrected, "is how you mix business with pleasure!"

"And _that_," said Sir Bors, the only knight with any physician experience in the order (Gaius was otherwise occupied and Gwaine didn't think it worth it to bother him), "is how you mend a dislocated shoulder," he said, having the last laugh as he patted Gwaine heartily on the tender area.

"There we are, see?" Gwaine smiled through gritted teeth. "That's what, _four_ lessons in one? What would you boys do without me?"

"Not get into half so much trouble?" Percival said.

"I know, didja see the huff Lord Bernard was in?" Elyan asked, with boyish glee.

_Okay, I'll bite,_ Gwaine said to himself, and against his better judgment, asked: "Who the bloody hell is Lord Bernard?"

"Only the fiercely protective father of the girl you caught in the bath!" Lancelot supplied indignantly (probably on behalf of his fellow female species).

"You mean those lovely bubbies have got a name?" Gwaine grinned.

"Yes, they do," Lancelot continued to scold, which was already annoying ten minutes ago. "Elaine of Ascolat."

"_And_ Leon fancies her," Elyan concluded, as if this was the last nail in the crucifixion.

"You boys aren't going to turn me in now, are you?" Gwaine asked, feigning concern.

"No, but we should," Lancelot frowned.

"Well, with a vote of confidence like that, who doesn't want to go see old Leo's chain mail chafe when Bernard lays into him, 'eh?" Gwaine said, leaping excitedly to his feet and running off toward the main hall with the knights following along, keen on a show.

…

Leon watched Lord Bernard closely, attempting to figure out why he should be so angry. Despite the apparent delicacy of the situation, surely he could make the problem clear in a civilized fashion, man to man?

Leon sat down behind Arthur's desk, just to be safe. "Won't you sit down, my lord?"

"I can't sit at a time like this!"

"Then perhaps you could tell me what the trouble is…?" Leon said hopefully.

"I'll tell you what's the trouble!" But Lord Bernard did not seem to be very willing to divulge details. He mumbled something, shouting "disgraceful!" and "I mean to say" intermittently. As Leon waited for the man to collect his thoughts, he saw Gwaine peek his head around the door, followed by the heads of Percy, Elyan and Lancelot. They all looked surprised, but thoroughly pleased. He was about to acknowledge them when Lord Bernard suddenly spat, "One of your knights played Peeping Tom with my daughter!"

Leon's mouth dropped open, and he cleared his throat. "Er—" his eyes darted back to Gwaine, who quickly put a finger to his lips. He was laughing.

Lord Bernard, taking Leon's eye-shifting for mere embarrassment, continued. "Apparently he was climbing the castle walls—though why he should be climbing the walls I'd like to know! She was in the bloody nuddy!"

"No, really—" Leon interjected, trying to ignore the knights' silent mirth. He threw a warning glance at Gwaine, who only made the outline of Elaine's voluptuous figure with his hands. The knights thought this was hilarious.

"Yes! Taking a bath, she was! I shouldn't be surprised if the lecher saw her from head to—"

"Enough, sir, please!" Leon said before Lord Bernard could continue. "I'm sure this can all be explained by—"

And he would have shouted "Sir Gwaine!" but Lord Bernard was a nobleman and thus very much in the habit of interrupting people. "I want you to find this blackguard and strip him of knighthood!"

Leon gulped his words. "Stripped of title?"

"Or put in the stocks," Lord Bernard conceded. "I'm not unreasonable. But I want this cur made an example of! My daughter will not be the butt—I mean, she will not be subject to such mockery!"

"Of course." Leon saw that Gwaine's grin had faded, but he was straightening his tunic, and looked as if about to speak up. Leon took the opportunity.

"Well, it's my responsibility, my lord," he said, standing. "On behalf of the knights I apologize, and will do whatever if necessary to restore the honor of Lady Elaine.''

Now it was Gwaine's turn to gape. Lord Bernard looked equally surprised. "What, even the stocks?"

Leon glanced at Gwaine, whose look of surprise became his signature squint of puzzlement. "Even the stocks."

Lord Bernard scratched his neck. "Well, if you're going to be that way about it," he complained. "I can't very well send you to the stocks. Your father and I go way back, you know."

"You may rest assured I will not allow such a thing to happen again," Leon said, careful not to breathe too loud a sigh of relief.

"Well—I think an apology to Elaine would be in order, then."

"As you wish, my lord. I'll—see her right away."

"See that you do, Leon—and look after your knights!"

"Yes, my lord."

Leon bowed very low and Lord Bernard turned just as Gwaine entered the room. Gwaine and he exchanged glances as they passed, both full of distrust, before Lord Bernard stomped out.

"Well, now! That wasn't so bad!" Gwaine said, grinning until he saw Leon's face. The other knights, who had never seen Leon quite so angry, decided they had other engagements and fled. A moment later Leon had slammed Gwaine up against a wall, his feet dangling.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Leon snarled.

"Ouch!" Gwaine shouted, his face the picture of pain. Leon blushed, suddenly remembering himself.

"Sorry," he said, gently setting Gwaine down. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Gwaine grunted, rubbing his shoulder. "It's just from when I fell from the window and—" he caught Leon's glare. "—never mind."

"What the blazes were you doing up there?"

"Training, what else? I didn't mean to. Look, if you caught her naked, you couldn't resist, eh? Thanks, anyway, though. Nice move to do it in front of the other knights. Very manly of you."

"You can thank me by spending tonight's banquet meeting the other nobles."

"Another banquet? I haven't anything to wear! Can't we just have a plain old feast?"

"If you can't find something, you can wear something of mine," Leon said.

"I'll look like a dwarf!"

"You _are_ a dwarf!"

Gwaine was about to object until he realized that in front of Leon, it was perfectly true. His frown, if possible, deepened. And since he was already on Leon's bad side, he couldn't well say 'no.' "Alright, I'll go!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

…

_**A/N**_: Next chapter promises to actually get the plot going and introduce some proper mayhem. Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N**: In which there is plot, finally. And, fair warning: this is where we stray furthest off the reservation. Hope it can still amuse!_

...

This was ridiculous.

Gwaine had never before seen more pompous belligerence, more arse-kissing, more drunk noblemen and their fat wives wearing outrageous hats than he was seeing right now.

And he wished he could be struck blind.

That he knew all the other knights were at the pub with Leon made it even worse. Some punishment! He'd almost prefer the stocks! No, he _certainly _would prefer the stocks to this! At least then he could join his friends at the… Well, join the boys at the pub, anyway.

The only highlight of the evening had to be Lord Bernard's daughter, who was almost as attractive fully clothed as she was in the nude. Not to discount her tailor or anything, of course, but he did have a pulse after all.

In fact—

"Lady Elaine," he said, sidling up to her table and refilling her goblet, "I hope you are enjoying yourself this evening?"

"Oh. Of course!" she said.

He detected automatic civility, but perhaps also a hint of interest behind those walls of ice? Nothing that wouldn't come crashing down when he gallantly admitted his own depravity, nobly placed himself at her mercy, and confessed to the vile deed of being the Peeping Tom who could not help himself when faced with her perfect beauty. If he were to be damned, he would conclude, then let him be damned for not having the moral fiber to draw his eyes from Helen of Troy, from Aphrodite herself!

Unfortunately, he had not begun his speech before she spoke again.

"Actually, I'm surprised to see you here, Sir Gwaine. I thought surely _Sir Leon _would be in attendance."

Gwaine could not, in all honesty, ignore the bright blush that flooded her cheeks at the mention of the blonde-haired-bastard he was going to personally beat to a blood pulp for sticking him at this ludicrous banquet! In fact, it was so plainly obvious that she clearly fancied the fuzzy bugger that it gave Gwaine another idea.

An even _better _idea!

"Ah. Yes. Leon. Of course, Leon, he—erm—"

"Is there something you wish to say, Sir Gwaine?"

"Er. Wish to say? No, no. Hardly that, no. Only I—I feel I have a duty to say…. That is, don't you know, Leon's who I came to talk to you about!"

She smiled. "Pardon?"

"It's a terrible business," Gwaine said, putting an elbow down on the table beside her and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "He's an absolute pussy-cat when you get right down to it, but if he knew I was telling you this, he would go absolutely mental, and if you have not seen a six-foot pussy-cat on a rampage, believe me, it is one of the most terrifying things in the world."

Her blush had deepened as he spoke of Leon, only confirming his suspicions, until they erupted into a giggle. Her father looked over sharply, and Gwaine changed his stance to a less condemning one before continuing.

"But I feel it's only fair to tell you—well—first of all, the knight who so caught you unawares this afternoon, as it were—"

"Sir Gwaine!" she squeaked.

"Don't worry, I'm the only one who knows, though I think your father was a little overzealous in sharing the outrage. What I came to do is apologize for Sir Leon—"

"Sir _Leon_?" The squeak was at an inhuman pitch at this point.

"Don't tell him I told you, and please don't put him in the stocks. He is, after all, a man, and you, my lady, make Aphrodite look like she's having a bad hair day. It wasn't as if he did it _intentionally_, don't you know. Scaling a wall in full plate mail is a good way to keep in fighting trim, and we all know how obsessed Leon is with duty and honor and keeping in fighting trim! It was an accident, of course, and I'm sure you caught him in the most compromising situation just as he managed to look away. You know he would rather pluck his own eyes out than use them to willingly defile a lady!"

"It was—Sir Leon?"

"I'm afraid so. But please, I'm only telling you this because, well, I know he'd be too embarrassed to say it himself, of course, he was appalled at his moral lapse—that was why he couldn't even show his face this evening!"

At this point, Gwaine couldn't actually tell himself why he was doing this. It was probably equal parts malice and equal parts misguided helpfulness, because if he could tell her Leon fancied her, well, the battle was half-won for old Leo, wasn't it? Not that the pussy-cat would ever make a move if Gwaine didn't nudge him. And nudge him. And nudge him.

"And it wasn't just any lady he caught sight of, either!" he continued. "Everyone knows he fancies you!" Then, with a theatrical gasp, he raised his eyebrows and clapped a hand over his mouth dramatically. "Oh! But then I wasn't meant to tell you _that_!" His hands resettled over his eyes and he bowed his head at her mercy. "There I go, putting my foot in it again! The knights _know _I can't keep a secret! Honest Gwaine, they call me, can't tell a lie even if he wanted to. D'you know they don't even tell me battle plans in case I get captured by the enemy?..."

It seemed to do the trick. And a blind man could have seen the sickeningly sweet sparkle of hope that flashed in her eyes at the mention of Leon fancying her. Oh, God. He wasn't sure he could handle another wedding so soon. He'd have to exercise more, certainly, with all the cake and ale and—

"It's quite alright, Sir Gwaine," she said, trying to feign indifference. "I thank you for telling me."

Gwaine smiled toothily. _What are friends for?_

…

Leon knew that when most people imagined him in a pub, he was sitting by himself with a pint of bitter and the Camelot account book. Sometimes it was an accurate description—he didn't like doing Camelot's bills, but someone had to—but sometimes he found himself at the pub when the knights had a hard day. Someone would mention a pint, and the lads would relax at the Rising Sun playing dice. He did it for the morale of the men, but before the Knights of the Round Table were knighted he didn't try to get too close to the other knights. Uther Pendragon did not think knights were very valuable, and making friends was too hard. So, indeed, much of the time he was sitting at the bar doing paperwork.

But there was something different about the Knights of the Round Table. He couldn't help thinking of them as brothers from the start. Paperwork, he decided, had to wait.

Especially since they started a band.

They called it the Friday Knights, after he and Lancelot had a few impromptu sessions during their free hours at the Rising Sun.

At the moment, Leon was singing, "Hide Your Love Away." The Traveling Beetles played it at Arthur's wedding, which some found absolutely hilarious and others found sadly beautiful. Either way it had become such a sensation that they pulled it together very quickly. Leon's light baritone tended toward these more plaintive songs, and he took the vocals as he strummed softly on the saz.

_"How could she say to me love will find a way, gather round all you clowns, let me hear you say…Hey! You've got to hide your love away…"_

The chords were not difficult to manage, and Lancelot's recorder solo was the only bit that took a bit of time to perfect. Elyan played a few low, somber notes on the bass viola da gamba as Lancelot played the final notes, and the Rising Sun burst into applause. A few of the older gents were crying into their ales, and Leon had to keep himself from tearing up.

"You know, I'm starting to like this thing," Elyan shouted over the applause, swinging the bass viol into his arms like a guitar. "Gwaine may have to play the psaltery from now on!" He leapt up, and, still holding the bass against his chest, shouted, "Alright, I got it! Leon, start me up!"

Leon switched quickly from the saz to a more manageable lute, and played a few chords in a swinging style, and Percy, grabbing a tabor to play with his tamborine, added an upbeat tempo, and soon Elyan was belting out "Start Me Up" and even getting the criers in the audience to clap along. Leon and Percy shouted out back-up vocals to cover the missing lute that Gwaine usually played, and Leon attempted the difficult solo with some degree of success. Everyone was too preoccupied by Elyan's singing to notice.

"Whoh!" Elyan shouted when they had finished with a loud crash from Percy, "It's a good job your Lady of Shallott isn't here, Leon! I'm afraid I've smoked your performance!"

"I said we weren't going to talk about that," Leon said defensively. "Anyway, it's Percy's song, and-"

"Right!" Percy jumped up. "We'll see who's smoked who, eh? _There iiiis a house in Camelot, they caaaallll the Riiiiising Suuuun!..._"

Leon would have said more, but he had to start the triplets on the lute, and soon the pub was lulled into the magic spell of Percy's commanding farmboy singing. The rhythm didn't take much effort, and once Leon got into the rhythm of it, he gazed out the window at the darkening evening and the lights coming from the banquet hall in the castle. He hoped Gwaine wasn't too upset about going to the banquet without them. At least it would give him some experience dealing with the nobility.

He couldn't help noticing a couple of shadows move across the castle walls, but when he looked closer, they were gone.

Probably a trick of the light.

…

Gwaine sat despondently at the banquet table as the night drew on. After Elaine's da had huffed and puffed and sent his daughter off to bed, the night really grew dismal.

Next time, he would choose the stocks!

The tiny bump against his knee wasn't enough to startle him, but the second and third certainly were. Lord Wallace had gotten up from his seat across from him, so no one was really around to kick him in the shin. Which was odd.

"Oi!" he said, leaning down and peering beneath the tablecloth-

Into the startled faces of a gang of children.

He must have looked as startled as they. Neither party moved or spoke for a long moment. Gwaine was about to ask them, probably, what on earth they were doing down there, or where their parents were at least, when one of them, a small blonde boy, placed a finger against his lips.

Gwaine considered his options. And those options were either to tell this group of five tiny miscreants to stop having fun and sit still and be as miserable at this thing as he was, or to not to.

So he grinned widely. "What're you up to, then?"

"Sorry to trouble you, Sir Gwaine!" said the golden-haired boy in an obnoxiously high-pitched voice.

"We're goblin-hunting!" piped up a ginger-haired girl.

"Is that so?"

"Yeth!" said a taller, thinner boy. "Can we borrow your thword?"

"Em," Gwaine bit his lip. "I think not."

The five faces fell, defeated, and Gwaine felt like he had kicked a puppy after stealing its chew-toy.

"However," he added. "You could hire me on as your swordsman!"

The tiny girl who hadn't spoken gasped. The rest of them looked just as defeated as before, except for the blonde-haired boy, who seemed to be the ringleader. "Damn the cost!" he insisted to his companions. "Name your price, mercenary!"

Gwaine thought carefully. "I'll need you to steal the cherry off the top of the Great Cake without the Cook noticing!"

_That ought to keep them occupied for a bit,_ Gwaine thought smugly. _And might even provide some decent entertainment in the meantime.  
><em>  
>Gwaine was completely taken aback when, before he had finished his mug of ale, the small girl tugged on his tunic and offered him a large black cherry, slightly crushed and staining her hand red.<p>

"Now you owe us your allegiance, swordsman!" the small blonde boy declared triumphantly.

"So I do!" Gwaine said, sliding down in his seat until he was crouching on the floor with his conspirators. He ate the cherry with no small degree of relish-which the children found hilarious-and then his eyes lit up. "Right. Where do we find these goblins then, 'eh?"

…

Leon knocked carefully on Lady Elaine's door, and stood back, careful not to sway too much. He always had too much to drink on Fridays. A good thing, too-he probably would have chickened out if he didn't have a few pints in him.

He waited about one second before he thought, _well, I suppose she's already gone to bed. No sense in waiting around, I'll talk to her tomorrow-_

The door opened just as he convinced himself to leave. Lady Elaine was standing there in a long robe of lovely green, her hair taken down for the night. Leon gulped.

"Lady Elaine," he said hoarsely, and bowed.

"Oh-good evening, Sir Leon!" she said. "Won't you come in?"

"I didn't want to intrude-"

"You're not intruding. Come in!"

Leon's mother taught him to never disobey a lady, and the second command he nodded again and stepped inside. A lovely loom of rose oak had been set up by the window, with an image of a knight's suit of armor half-completed in the shimmering fabric.

"I was just working on this for King Arthur," she said. "To thank him for his hospitality."

"It's lovely," Leon said. Suddenly he felt a surge of pride at being such a knight. He stood up a little straighter.

"You were missed at the banquet tonight," she said.

"Yes, I was down at the-I mean, I had a prior engagement," Leon said, quite flustered. He didn't particularly think it appropriate to relate his pub musicianship at a time like this. He cleared his throat. "Er, but I-I wanted to apologize for the-incident which occurred today."

"Oh, that," she said. Her demeanor became much warmer, and-as if she couldn't get any more beautiful-she smiled at him. Leon felt his spine melt. "Thank you. It's very gallant of you to apologize."

"You deserve better than an apology, my lady," Leon said, his confidence growing under her beautiful, encouraging smile. "I-I shall not forgive the man who did it."

She giggled, a musical little laugh that reminded Leon of rabbits and ducklings and kittens and other soft, wonderful things that Leon had no business thinking about. "Sir Leon, you're blushing!"

"As I should. It was perfectly unacceptable."

She bit her lips, and paused for a moment, looking right into his eyes. "Yes, I suppose it was. But accidents happen. I shouldn't be too harsh of a judge. I'm sure it was just an honest accident."

"That's no excuse." He looked her straight in the eye. "It was behavior unfit for a knight."

"You mustn't judge your knights so harshly." She grinned and, looking him up and down, added, "After all, if I had walked in on you naked I certainly would feel compelled to…"

She paused. Leon stared at her. She gulped.

"…Look away. Of course. My lord."

Leon coughed to fill the very awkward silence. Lord, he should have known that girls thought  
>like that…just, not about him…<p>

Elaine forced a laugh. "I should probably…"

"Yes, I should just…"

He walked out quickly, and was just about to flee before he remembered himself and bowed again. "My apologies again, my lady."

"Er-you wouldn't-happen to know…which of the knights it was?" she said. Her manner was very peculiar, and she was looking at him oddly. Did she somehow know?

"No. My lady." As if the pregnant pause wasn't enough to let her know he was lying, he looked down, too.

"I see." She seemed satisfied, and gave a more relieved laugh. "Well, it's alright, Sir Leon-I forgive you."

Leon blinked. "Forgive me?"

The brightest blush Leon had ever seen sprang up on Elaine's cheeks, and her hand flew up to her mouth as she shouted. "Oh hell!" A moment later, the door was slammed in his face.

Leon stood there, blinking, for a few moments, staring at the door.

She thought it was him? But, how? Surely Lord Bernard wouldn't tell her-he was the type that probably never told his daughter anything. Who then? Who would have made up that he was the one who saw her, and why would they? Anyway, the only people who knew were Gaius, who had no reason to tell her, and the knights, who physically couldn't-after all, they were all at the pub the whole time, none of them could have talked to her during the banquet…

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

In fact, _hell _no.

_This ends tonight._


	7. Chapter 7

This was actually...fun!

Not only because these children's parents were so soul-crushingly dull, but, well, Gwaine liked children. They had their priorities straight-food, warmth, companionship, and good old-fashioned fun-without being bogged down yet by cares of state, politics, work, loyalty. Why did they spend so much time pretending to be grown-ups? he wanted to asked them: why did they waste their precious years longing for real goblin-hunts?

At any rate, it got him out of that dull poetry recital.

"All right, Lord Eustace," Gwaine asked-for so the small ringleader's name turned out to be- "Where is this fierce goblin?"

"Oh, there's loads of them, swordsman!" Eustace replied clearly, as if the boy expected him to be a bit slow in the head.

"Right," Gwaine corrected himself, deciding to go with it, lest they sack him and send him back to that dreadful banquet. "Where are they then? My sword longs for the taste of goblin-blood!" He was of course playing it up for the amusement of the children. Or perhaps it was rather the case that he always toned it down when with adults. Either way.

"Through there!" the young boy pointed at one of the guest rooms, and stopped. Actually, all of the children stopped.

Gwaine frowned. "You're not going in, then? In our moment of victory?"

The children shook their heads.

_Hmm_, Gwaine thought as he continued on alone. _That certainly didn't bode well! _If it had been a game, surely they would have wanted to come along.

But goblins in Camelot? Honestly!

He was sure everyone was at the Banquet-he knew, he'd counted before he left-so no one should be in this room. So even if he apprehended anyone it would be a lost servant or something, and he could claim it as a Knight's Arrest rather than awkwardly stammer that the children had hired him to hunt goblins.

But there was definitely someone-or some_thing_, if he entertained the thought-in that room.

Gwaine winked at the children, but drew his sword just in case, before he went in.

"Show yourself, in the name of the King!" Gwaine bellowed into the room, shutting the door behind him as much to protect the children from the sight of him bringing the smackdown as to prevent whatever was in here from getting out.

There was first silence, and then some shuffling behind the wardrobe. Gwaine approached it slowly. But he wasn't afraid-no, certainly not! Even if it was a goblin-which was laughable-it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Gwaine rounded the wardrobe.

Only to face a goblin.

He frowned at it. It glared at him. It was small, child-sized, and mean-looking. It had pointed ears, a long nose, and crippled joints. Definitely a goblin. The green skin was a good tip-off.

Gwaine struggled for words. What did you say to a goblin? Did these creatures even speak? Were they sentient? Could you threaten them with imprisonment? Death? Was it illegal to be a goblin in Camelot (_loads_of things were illegal in Camelot that Gwaine didn't exactly hold with), or was it just illegal to be...rifling through...a guests things...wearing their jewelry...

"Hey!" Gwaine managed finally.

"Ooh, I'm dealing with a real _mind_, here," the goblin snarked. "Now turn around and forget you saw me like a good little tin-can and I'll forget I saw you, see?"

Gwaine was taken aback. No more surprised, but now additionally insulted.

"Look, put those stolen items down and I _might _not cut you down where you stand, you miserable little creature!" Here, that sounded like the right way to talk to a goblin.

"Ha!" it laughed. It launched itself, then, directly at Gwaine's face, but he drew his sword-arm up to parry and stepped back out of its reach.

Which gave it just enough space to flip-bounce-hop away through the room, scattering gold and jewelry everywhere, and before Gwaine could rally, it was perched on the windowsill. Perhaps showing off, it took one of the earrings it was wearing, licked it, blew a kiss to Gwaine, and jumped out of the window.

"Damn!" Gwaine said, running out.

-and almost stumbling over the children who waited in the hall.

"Did you get him, Sir Gwaine?" they asked.

"Ay, that I did," Gwaine lied easily. "All of 'em, so don't you fret, and go back to your puddings, 'eh?"

As they scampered off happily, glad to have rid the world of the goblin menace (you'd have thought they had gone in alone with naked blades to hear them tell it!) Gwaine straightened and bit his lip.

_I have to tell Leon about this_, he thought, and took off at a sprint.

…

Leon turned to leap up the stairs two at a time, but ran into Gwaine coming down, knocking him back a few steps. "Gwaine!"

"Leon, thank God I found you!" Gwaine seemed relieved. "I'm afraid we've got a problem-"

"Have we got a problem!" If Leon wasn't already several steps below Gwaine, he would have thrown him up against a wall again. But seeing as how this would not be very effective, he settled for advancing up the stairs. "What the blazes did you tell Lady Elaine? She thinks it was me who saw her this afternoon!"

Gwaine backed up the stairs as Leon stalked towards him, looking surprised that Leon should be mentioning such a thing at a time like this, and Leon had to work hard to keep from getting angry.

"Look, you bloody great oaf, that's not what I've come to tell you! There's gob-" Gwaine realized he was shouting, so he lowered his voice. "There's goblins in Camelot!"

Leon blinked. _Okay, definitely angry, now._"What are you talking about?"

"It's a bloody infestation, Leo! Why just now I saw one in Lord Archibald's room..."

Leon sighed. "I should have known you would get drunk at the banquet." Oh, he could yell at Gwaine now, but would he even remember what he'd done? He turned and headed down the hall, muttering, "It's like talking to a child..."

…

Gwaine bridled at that. Here he was trying to be helpful and Leon had to go and get downright nasty!

Sure he'd had _something_ to drink, but only enough, really, to stay _sane_. He blinked a few times. Leon was walking away. He was walking away! Leon was actually walking away from him on this!

_Like hell he was!  
><em>  
>"HEY!" Gwaine insisted, grabbing Leon's collar and, surprising even himself with his strength, turning him around and shoving the bigger-ha! bigger! Taller, maybe, like a beanpole!-man into the wall. "Don't you walk away from me like that when I'm talking to you, bye," he snarled, his accent coming across stronger than he'd hoped in his anger. "I assure ye, if I was drunk, I'd hardly have the stomach to spend it trying to talk to your ugly bake!"<p>

"What?" Leon said, hiding his surprise at Gwaine's strength as he shoved him off. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt! Go to bed-that's an order!"

Now Gwaine was mad. "You can't order me around!" He reached out his hand toward Leon's face, stopping just short of punching him in the jaw or throttling the bugger, and he ground his teeth together. "You...God, I can't _believe _you! You better stop this act, son, this high and mighty bull, where you think you're the great big boss of this flying umbrella! So drop the act, all right, and let me tell you something!"

Leon would have laughed. He wanted to laugh, because he wanted to believe that this was just Gwaine being drunk. But he couldn't. His jaw tightened. "I've been at this 'knight business' a lot longer than you have, Gwaine. You need to stop playing and start learning discipline, before you embarrass the kingdom with your games."

"_Games_?" Gwaine laughed, but his eyes didn't soften. "You think this is a _game_? I'll show you a game, in Lord Archie's quarters, right after I kick my boot so far up your backside it _might _find the stick that's lodged up there!"

"Oh? I didn't think peasants owned boots."

_The hell? _Gwaine felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Suddenly, the goblins mattered a whole lot less than Leon's enormous attitude. "You just watch yourself, son," he said, a low growl. "I'll ignore that on account of I'm used to what a prat you're accustomed to being. Well I've got a messenger to see you, and he says you're not the big man in charge anymore. The King left me in charge with ye whether you like it or not, you've got to listen to me, and I say we're going for a walk, you and I, and we're going to investigate the very real problem we've got, aside from your insufferable..." Gwaine struggled for the word, finally petering out with an "Arrgh!" and another motion that belied his desire to strangle the blonde Englishman.

Leon blinked. Suddenly it wasn't about putting Gwaine in his place and getting him to apologize about Elaine. This was much more real. "Insufferable? Better go look that one up, lad," he said, and, because he was able to control his anger from many years of military training, walked off.

Gwaine, who'd had no such training, and didn't bloody well care ever to get it, wasn't going to let him walk away. "Oi! Hold up, there!" he shouted, but Leon kept going.

So Gwaine did what he did best, which was stopping thinking, and starting brawling.

Leon didn't know what hit him. Probably because it hit him in the back of the noggin and brought him to the ground.

Gwaine helped turn Leon over and slammed him into the floor. He might have been persuaded to talk this over, then, if Leon had come to his senses, but apparently his skull was thicker than Gwaine had banked on, because Leon's fist flew back just far enough to score a solid but undodgeable punch to his jaw. This unsettled him just enough that Leon was able to shove him off, but Gwaine rolled with it and brought Leon around again. They clattered into the rows of candelabras with a resounding crash as Gwaine pulled Leon's hair and Leon bit his wrist.

Their grunts and cries, and the sickening sound of fists hitting flesh, soon roused this wing of the palace. Gwaine didn't care, though, because he was winning.

…

Leon, a man never quite sure where to put all six-foot-four-inches of his body, knew he was probably going to get thrashed by Gwaine in a fist fight, which probably contributed to his desire to avoid physical confrontation. Of course, this did not make him feel any better, and he fought Gwaine more fiercely than he probably ever had fought anyone in a fist-fight. The little weasel attacked him from behind! Behind! Like some common thief! He knew Gwaine fought dirty, but did the man have any sense of honor?

He was trying to keep Gwaine from choking him when suddenly his vision went red, and it wasn't from the rage. A red cloak slapped him in the face as Percival hauled Gwaine off him. Leon laughed and was about to get in a good punch before Lancelot grabbed him from behind.

"What are you-?"

"You call yourself a knight, you coward?" Leon shouted over Lancelot at Gwaine, "You aren't fit to live in a pigsty!"

Gwaine, held in a full nelson by Percy, was nearly running off the ground trying to get at him. "Let me at him! I'm gonna kill him, I am!"

"That's enough!" Elyan's voice was unsurprisingly loud. "Bloody hell, this is a castle, not a nursery! Leon, Gwaine! Get a hold of yourselves, if you please!"

Leon stopped struggling, and Lancelot let him go. It took Gwaine a little bit longer to calm down, but eventually Percival let him go.

"Now," Elyan said, a little more calmly, "I suppose that you both are tired and just-"

Before he could finish, Gwaine stormed off down the hall.

"Leave him be, Leon!" Elyan said, holding Leon back as he started to follow. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Leon snapped, wiping some blood from his nose. "I was going to bed anyway. Training is at five in the morning."

"Leon-"

"Go see to the night watch! That's an order!"

And with that Leon stomped off to his room. There he got washed up and took some pain reliever he only used after a hard day's training. Then he tried, unsuccessfully but stubbornly, to go to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

As much as he wanted to, trying to escape from Percival's grip was only going to succeed in making Gwaine look ridiculous.

Well, more ridiculous than having just attacked the guy who was in charge of all of Camelot.

_Co_- in charge of Camelot.

Gwaine couldn't believe the _nerve _of that man! His stubbornness! His chauvanism! His bloody elitism! How he thought he was better, was smarter, how he felt he could bully everyone else around him and claim it was his divine right. Inbred blue-blood.

Bastard.

Gwaine was seeing red, and he had traversed to the complete other end of the castle before he remembered himself and realized where he was.

He'd show that lisping sack of compensating ego what was what.

He'd just need some proof.

Proof that goblins were about. They didn't exactly leave tracks climbing along castle walls, so he'd have to find witnesses...

The children!

Oh, sure, like Sir Head-up-his-arse will believe a _child _when he won't believe a fellow knight.

Gwaine only realized he was angry when his teeth began to hurt and he realized he had been grinding them. He only cared that he was angry when he realized his clenched fists were bending the railing on the stairs.

He needed a drink.

What he wanted was revenge. He'd find a goblin, all right, and not sleep a wink until it was done, and show that pattern-balding-good-for-nothing who was right...and who was a coward!

…

Leon, after a few hours of trying ineffectually to sleep, got up and worked on the Camelot paperwork. Dawn approached, and he was just sorting out the costs of all the guests when he remembered that he hadn't actually ever given Lord Bernard the charcoal walking cloak.

Inexplicably, it was nowhere to be found.

"Good morning, Sir Leon! Something wrong?"

"I'm looking for that robe I was going to give Lord Bernard," said, looking up from where he had been searching under the council room table. "You wouldn't happen to know…"

He looked up, and blinked at Gaius, looking very smug in a long, gray walking cloak. "Hey…!"

"Do you like it?" Gaius said, grinning. "I just found it in the council chambers. Someone must have left it behind. Though I can't imagine who-it's such a lovely cloak I'm sure I'd never be so careless as to misplace it. Anyway, finder's keepers!"

Leon's eyes narrowed. "Is this about that jar of yours I broke when the Witch-hunter was...?"

"That? Oh, no! How could it possibly be about that?"

"I said I was sorry!"

"I think I'll take a walk," Gaius said, ignoring him. "Normally I detest the early morning fog, but I think this should keep the damp out, don't you?"

And with a wink and a spring in his step, Gaius shuffled off down the hall. Leon glared at him, and swept away with a "well, this days getting off to a great start…"

A kid, one of the noble's children, was running down the hall toward him. Leon veered out of the way, but the kid wasn't watching where he was going and ran hard into him. The kid gawped and bowed.

"Sorry, sir!"

"At ease," Leon said uncertainly. He liked children between the ages of two and six, but after that he was always unsure of how to act around them.

"Have you seen Sir Gwaine, please, sir?" the child asked.

"No, I haven't," Leon said, in what he hoped was an appropriate manner for a ten-year-old.

"Only I think the goblin's back, and it won't do let him run loose, would it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh yes. Gwaine helped us deal with it last night."

"Er. You needn't worry. There's no goblins in Camelot," he said, trying not to be patronizing.

"You didn't see what I saw, sir. Er-no offense, sir," he added.

Did Gwaine tell the children too? It wasn't that unlikely-a drunk Gwaine would tell anything to anyone willing to listen. He tried to see if he could tell whether the kid was just trying to play around with him, but given his lack of experience this proved to be somewhat difficult. What would that matter, anyway, since there were *definitely* no goblins in Camelot?

"Where did you see this goblin?" he said, thoroughly hating himself for asking.

"Oh-it was up in the bell tower. We were-er-looking for our ball," he said, when he saw Leon's face."It sort of-bounced up the stairs, don't you know. As balls do."

_Telling ghost stories until you fell asleep, I imagine,_ he thought, but only said, "Well, I'll be sure to let him know."

"Thank you, sir!" the boy said, and, realizing that he was going to get in trouble if he stuck around any longer, fled.

Leon glanced across the courtyard, where the seldom-used belltower rose from the west wall. Everyone except the elderly, children who had been playing where they should not, and he were awake. Gwaine was probably passed out at the Rising Sun.

It couldn't hurt to look, could it? Very likely a cat or something got stuck up there. It would be better to get it down before it frightened the bellringers, who were a bit dodgy on the heart at the best of times.

He climbed the stairs quickly, but arrived near the top chamber without breaking a sweat-he had not yet donned his armor. His tread was that of the soft-soled shoes he wore during his off-hours, suggested to him by Merlin, who seemed particularly adept in sneaking about in similar shoes. He was glad for his silence, because as he reached the top of the stairs he could hear something grunting in the bell chamber.

A pig, then. He thought pigs couldn't walk up stairs.

He took a few steps up, and observed a little green man pulling in vain at the gold lettering on the bell.

Without missing a step, Leon turned round and walked back down the stairs, not stopping until he was out of sight, and flattened himself against the wall. When he got his heart rate near enough to normal he risked a glance. The little green man had produced a small pick and was prying at the gold lettering. There was a *plink* as one of the letters popped free. The green man giggled and stuffed it into his trousers. Leon slowly resumed his position against the wall. And, as was his custom when faced with bizarre circumstances, accessed the favorable and unfavorable conditions of the situation.

_Unfavorable: There is a goblin in Camelot._

_Unfavorable: Gwaine was right. I was wrong._

_Favorable: He doesn't have to know that._

_Unfavorable: Gwaine probably attempted to get rid of the goblin, but whatever he tried obviously failed._

_Favorable: I can come up with a better plan to get rid of this thing._

_Favorable: Gaius is already up and I can ask him how to get rid of the goblin safely and quietly._

And Leon, feeling much better about the whole thing, quietly descended the stairs, thanking his good fortune that he had come across this goblin the second time, and not Gwaine.

…

"Garackaghhhaaaaoooo!" Gwaine said.

What he had meant to say was actually "Gerroff me, you stupid toad!" but that was rather harder to articulate, it turned out, when you were being choked to death by a three-foot tall garden variety goblinoid!

But he had found the goblin, that was the main thing, and initiated a grapple with it, and was more or less winning, and at least was hell-bent on bringing it before Leon as proof to rub in his pretty brown nose.

Dead _or _alive.

They rolled and kicked and punched and bit and fought for a few more long minutes. This was a deserted corridor, or else the guards were slacking, as no one had yet heard the commotion and come running.

"Right, I've had enough of this!" Gwaine yelled, drew his boot-knife, and ran the goblin through.

He hardly had time to congratulate himself on a clean kill before the thing disintegrated into a pile of unrecognizable goo.

All of Camelot heard the resulting cry of rage:

**"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!"  
><strong>  
>Gwaine punched the pile of goo. He punched the floor. He stood up, and kicked over a barrel. As the guards rushed in, shouting "Sir Gwaine! What is going on?" he shoved past them with a Do Not Disturb growl.<p>

As if his night couldn't get any worse, it was half past three in the morning already, and and the Rising Sun was shut until noon.

But Gwaine was at a slow burn stage, and this helped him think both clearly and ruthlessly.

There had been a bloody lot of booze at that bloody banquet.

When he arrived at the banquet hall, it was dark. He lit a few torches that gave off a gloomy light, still dim, but enough for him to find barrels of ale and wine. Which, admittedly, he could probably locate without any trouble in the dark at twenty paces with only one nostril.

Gwaine picked up a goblet that looked clean and poured himself an obscene amount of port, gulped it down, and moved on to an ale. After four or five of these in quick succession, mixing his liquors to keep them from sticking in his throat, Gwaine rolled a barrel over to the tables where a few half-gnawed turkey legs and cold pies awaited him.

It wasn't until he was nearly halfway through this cask that the anger and the rage fizzled out to confusion, and, though he wouldn't admit it, sadness. He wondered why his face hurt. He was confused why the boys hadn't wanted him along for Friday Knights. He was out of ideas as to how to kill Leon slowly and painfully, and had even forgotten why he wanted him dead in the first place. He wondered why his bed was so hard, and full of dirty dishes and leftover food.

Gwaine wondered why he was drinking alone.

And he also wondered why that was making him cry.


	9. Chapter 9

Leon prided himself on his logical, practical plans. He wasn't one of the oldest knights for nothing-he did most everything by the book and managed to do it with grace.

The plan he came up with to capture the goblin was, by anyone's estimation, ingenious. He set a trap consisting of some gold from the coffers under a pressure plate which would drop a lead box on the unsuspecting goblin. Pretty clever, especially since Gaius was unwilling to tell him much about goblins in light conversation. And, conveniently, everything was timed perfectly-no one would be anywhere near the coffers this early in the morning.

Which was why Leon, after setting the trap just right, blinked in incomprehension as he heard someone walking in the hallway. A goblin? Leon prepared to hide-

The door opened, and revealed a lone figure in the hallway.

"Lancelot?"

"Oh, hello, Leon," Lancelot said. He heaved a sigh and stepped inside, crossing slowly to the window. "Can't sleep, either, eh?"

"Er…" Dealing with a depressed Lancelot wasn't exactly what he had in mind while trying to catch a goblin, but being Captain of the Knights had its duties. "Something wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing." That lasted about two seconds. "It's just that song you sang made me think about Gwen. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to write some poetry, like you suggested."

"Oh. Good." It sounded like such a good suggestion at the time. "Well, the coffers isn't the best place to write at the moment…"

"It's no trouble. I just wanted to get a coin."

"Oh?" Leon was aware of a shadow behind Lancelot in the hallway, and this shadow was much shorter. A green nose appeared around the door.

"I'm thinking of giving this one to her when she gets back, so I want it on clean paper." Lancelot held the paper in front of him and started pacing. "Listen to this…"

"Oh no, really-!"

_"-When Gwenivere's near, my feelings are clear, my heart full of tears, there was true love here, for Lancelot and Gwenivere_." He took a breath. "_When Gwen holds a pen, I think of a wren-"_

"I think it's better read than spoken," Leon said quickly. "Cadence, and all that, you know." By now the goblin had completely entered the room, and was watching them with interest.

"Oh. I suppose it would be. I'll take a few coins, anyway."

And with that, before Leon could say anything, Lancelot took a handful of gold from the trap, and Leon was shouting urgently "Watch out!" just as the lead box bounced off Lancelot's head. He blinked, and fell over with a groan.

"Er!" Leon said. He dropped down beside Lancelot, and watched a goose egg bloom on Lancelot's brow where the box hit. Suddenly he was aware of a piggy little laugh that set his teeth on edge. He turned, and saw the goblin laughing at him.

"Good trap, eh, blondie?" the goblin cackled. For a second Leon thought that the goblin's laugh was echoing in the room, until he realized that there were several pairs of golden eyes were winking at him from the shadows.

"There can't be more of you!" Leon said. He felt exasperated more than terrified. Fortunately, the goblins had forgotten entirely about him, and in about five seconds swarmed the gold and disappeared, leaving the trap empty. A more adventurous mind might have come up with some sort of back-up plan, but Leon did not. His heart sank into his stomach, but there comes a time in every man's life when he realizes he needs assistance.

After he finished putting Lancelot back in his bed he ran off to find Gwaine.

…

"Sir Gwaine? Sir Gwaine?"

Voices filtered to him through a drunken haze. Not drunk enough. If he was drunk enough, the voices wouldn't reach him. A nice, thick, cottony insulation, preventing everything from getting in.

If only. There wasn't enough liquid in all of Albion.

Instead, now a prodding hand had joined the voices. Something jabbing him in the chest.

Gwaine belched. That lovely almost-vomit-burp that happened when his body was ready to give in long before he was. Gross. He needed another drink.

Damn, he'd have to open his eyes for that.

"Sir Gwaine? You need to leave, sir, we need to clean out the banquet hall."

"Lemalone," Gwaine muttered, rolling over.

"Sir Gwaine, I really must insist!"

"Nedajrink."

"No, Sir, what you need is rest."

_Why was no one listening to him?  
><em>  
>"It's a good job the King is away! It be a shame, Sir Gwaine, to find you like this!"<p>

Gwaine opened his eyes. Too bright. Too many faces-ones he vaguely recognized. The cleaning staff: various maids and cooks and kitchen boys, to begin working all day to undo what the lords and ladies had done in a few short hours.

"One for the road?" he grinned hopefully.

"Right. That's it, Sir Gwaine, but I did warn you."

Ah. The Porter. Not a man to be trifled with, especially when you were the knight most known for getting caught in the wine cellar at all hours. Well, no matter: he was a big fellow, but hardly-

"Guards!" _Not so loud_, Gwaine groaned. "Please take Sir Gwaine to his chambers. He's drunk."

_**Hey**__, now.  
><em>  
>Gwaine was instantly alert. Well, behind the drunken haze he was, anyway. They couldn't sic the guards on him! He was a Knight of Camelot! He was in charge of this circus! Well, after he assassinated Leon, that was, which he'd been plotting to ever since his binge began, though the plan was still in its infancy as he hadn't got much past the part where the blonde bugger needed to die.<p>

Hands were on his shoulders. He recognized Alfred and Edgar-_drinking buddies! friends, until now! traitors!_-encouraging him quietly to come with them and just easy does it, he could sleep it off, he'd had enough...

"I'LL _TELL _YOU WHEN I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"

Gwaine wasn't sure why violence was the best solution to the problem at hand, but it generally served him well in most situations, and anyway he had reached his saturation point of Ability To Deal With Horse Manure, so he decided to administer a liberal application of the fact that he was the best brawler south of the River Humber.

…

Conceivably, Leon should have found Gwaine brawling with the hapless kitchen staff to be even more vexing than usual. But somehow that didn't matter. Gwaine, although appearing to hold his own, was grossly outnumbered. He was currently shouting some curse as one of the cook's kicked him in the nether regions while the ktichen lads grabbed him and shouted that the pig sty would be a good place for him. Idiot or no, Gwaine did not deserve that. He took a deep breath.

"SILENCE!"

Everyone went silent, and froze in amusing tableau, staring at him with jaws dropped. Leon realized that the last time he shouted like that he was standing in front of a line of crossbowmen, shouting "LONG LIVE THE KING" at Lady Morgana. He used his big-daddy, no-nonsense, all-capitals voice. The only one who did not seem to be affected was Gwaine, which annoyed Leon a bit.

Gwaine took advantage of the servants' distraction by trying to stab the cook in the foot with a fork. Leon caught it just in time.

"He was bein' drunk n' disorderly, he was!" the cook said, nursing a bloody nose.

"That's no reason to have him beaten ," Leon said. "I know he's not of noble birth, but he is a Knight of the Round Table. Arthur would not have made him so if he was not worthy of the title."

"He's drunk, Sir Leon!" the cook said, angrily. "He won't even remember."

"I can assure you, he will remember it well enough tomorrow when he wakes up covered in bruises. Were he as sober as you I wouldn't think much of it, but you used your clearer minds not to help him, but to humiliate him. You, who he is charged as a knight of Camelot to protect with his very life, would treat him like a dog? Knights are your servants as much as you are theirs. If you cannot respect his actions, at least respect him." He paused. "Do I make myself clear?"

The servants nodded quickly in a chorus of "yes, my lord"s.

He sighed and helpedd Gwaine stand up. That lasted about two seconds before Gwaine sank in his arms, and with a little effort (why the hell was Gwaine wearing armor?) he pulled him over a shoulder. "I'll just get him out of your hair. Oh-and there's a stoup of wine for each man who _doesn't_ mention this to Arthur."

...

**_**A/N:**_**_I think we ought to apologize in this chapter for making Lancelot such a huge nerd! He does it to himself, a bit, though, you have to admit. He's just so...old-fashioned? He acts like how a peasant would imagine a knight should act. Which is sweet, but also, wow... Anyway, this isn't about him! (Yet!)_****_Also: Gwaine-Leon make-up scene to follow (well, as much of a make-up scene as we can get from two guys who can't address their emotions)! Stay tuned! _


	10. Chapter 10

Leon sure talked pretty when he was in heroic-rescue mode. He made for a very dashing figure.

Perhaps that was only because he was slung over Leon's shoulder, Gwaine mused, and all he could stare at was Leon's fine, strong, firm backside...

Wow, he was really drunk! That Camelot wine was stronger than he thought. It only took two barrels to get him really rip-roaring instead of the three he expected. Maybe he'd had more, though, he didn't exactly remember.

Or care.

"You habba nnnnnice sssmile," Gwaine hadn't meant to say as Leon deposited him in a bed-his own bed! _Woohoo, haven't been here in a while_. The sheets smelled nice. "I mean-frown." Now the world was right-side up, and Leon was definitely doing the opposite of smiling. "Anyway, 'snice, anyone ever toldjoo that? The beard helps."

Leon nodded patiently as he helped him out of his armor, and Gwaine was quiet for some time. Gwaine wiggled his toes as Leon dumped him out of his boots.

"Y'know, you're not a toooootally bad-guy. Kindova prat, right, but who isn't? And you're right about the knight thiiiing. I shouldn've reacted like that, gotta duty and ssstuff."

Was he _apologizing_? He must be _seriously _wasted. Teehee!

"It's all right, Gwaine. Just sleep it off. We'll talk when your feeling better."

"We can talk right now," Gwaine insisted, tugging on Leon's sleeve and belching loudly. "Needta tell you sssomething."

"I think it'll have to wait..."

"Nononononnnnoo. You'll like it. 'Sssssasecret!" Gwaine giggled. "C'mere." Gwaine curled his finger seductively at Leon. "C'mere. Listen."

Leon rolled his eyes but humored him, leaning in.

"I'm a nnnnnobleman!" He grinned manically.

Leon jerked back like he had been burned. Gwaine thought this was hilarious.

But Leon only frowned deeply. "If you're just going to fiddle around with me-"

"Noooo! I'm totally sarus. Seeeriouuuuss. Look." Gwaine hooked his thumb, after a few tries, into the chain around his neck, and peered at it, cross-eyed. "Family crest. Well, one of 'em. Looooong story. Wanna hearritt?"

Leon stammered. "Er. Yes?"

"Dad was an idiot."

"Well, at least we know where you get it from," Leon supplied helpfully.

"I never knew him," Gwaine added abruptly. "Loth died when I was a child. Served Caerleon. Wait. Backup. Brother was a prince. King. Lot, you ever heard of him? Anyway. Dad dies, Mum marries a right prick of a knight, for the money, to look after us. There was four of us, then. Nnnnever knew Gwalchmai and Gwalhafed: they died, too."

"I'm sorry," Leon said. He sounded like he meant it, but what did Gwaine know? He was drunk!

"Anyway, then ssstepfather died—accident, y'know, fell on a sword, whups!—leaving me and Mum and the little ones. Gareth and Gwarae."

_No, not them! _Gwaine told himself, but he was already tearing up, and he couldn't stop himself.

"And then..." _No. Stop! You've got to stop talking! _"Then. Mum died. And-and-" There were tears streaming down his face. God, he was the worst with the drunk-crying. Once he got going...it was pathetic. He was pathetic. "Oh, God, I m-miss her!" he whined, and buried his face in Leon's chest, bawling openly now. "And Gaheris, too," he went on. "Leaving me a-alone with the wee ones, and that wasn't good for 'em...lost 'em…came home one night and…gone."

There was an awkward pause. Leon gently patted him on the back.

Gwaine wiped at his eyes furiously and sniffed. "Where was I...oooooh, yeah." He sat up, pushing away from Leon. "So. Y'know. _Ex_-nobleman_._ At _leasssst_ three times. Funny thing, nobility. In my blood. But not on paper. Funny, funny, fun-_nyyy_!"

Now at least he was giggling again. Which was better than crying.

Leon had a funny look on his face. Gwaine wasn't sure what he was thinking. That made him suddenly nervous.

"An' if you breathe a wwwword of this to aaaaaaannnnnyone, I'll. Do something. You won'like it. Beat your face...lovely face in, make it ugly..." Gwaine patted Leon affectionately on the cheek and tried to sit up, but only succeeded in falling off his bed.

Which was good, because that was where the chamber-pot was, and that seemed the most expedient place in which to vomit.

…

Leon didn't know that to make of Gwaine's story, especially since he alternated between complimenting him, insulting him, crying like a baby and whacking him in the face. On top of that, he couldn't really understand him: drink, his thicker Orkney brogue and the fact that he mumbled anyway made it almost impossible to comprehend. What he could understand, he wasn't sure he wanted to, because it sounded so terrible that he couldn't even conceive of such a thing happening. How could a king turn down support for the family of a fallen knight? He never thought about it before-but surely there were rules?

When Gwaine cried into his chest he put his arms around him, like he did to the younger knights after they came back from their first battle. Kids young enough to be his children often thought that they had to go to battle, to prove themselves as men. Leon was often left picking up the pieces.

But this-this was something more ingrained than an emotional breakdown after a severe battle. These wounds ran deep, and it made Leon almost tear up to see him like this.

After Gwaine finished his story and threatened Leon's life if he told, he threw up-thankfully, into the chamber pot. He spit pathetically into the pot, and Leon quickly poured him some water from the jug on the nightstand.

"Here, drink this," he said, helping Gwaine drink the water. Gwaine sank down on the bed, hugging a pillow.

"If I could just see their faces, y'know? One last time…"

"Gwaine, I promise, I'm going to help you find out what happened to them. Alright?"

But Gwaine had already fallen asleep. Leon shook his head and rolled him onto his side. "Bet you'll forget all about this, come tomorrow," he said, and got up to leave.

Five pairs of yellow eyes blinked at him from the hallway outside Gwaine's room.

"That's them, isn't it?" one of them said as Leon froze.

"Yeah, that's them, alright," another said. "I'd know the nosy shortshank anywhere."

"Guards!" Leon shouted.

"Shout all you like, blondie!" The goblin said. "There ain't no guards about, leastwise none wot will come."

The goblins stepped forward, but Leon was more agile, and slammed the door before they could enter. He fumbled with the lock.

_BAM_! It almost felt like a horse kicking the door, before Leon could get the lock done. He threw his back against the door and dug his toes into a crack in the floorstones, holding the door closed-just barely.

"Gwaine!" he shouted. "Gwaine, get the sword!"

Gwaine opened his eyes slowly. "Hmm?"

BAM! The next strike against the door caused the hinges to rattle, and Leon snarled with effort against the door.

"Gwaine, hand me your sword!"

Gwaine blinked around, and made an attempt to take up the sword by the bed. He missed.

_BAM!_ Little green fingers appeared around the door.

"Gwaine-!"

Gwaine barely managed to kick the sword towards him, but it was the work of a moment for Leon to draw the sword and stick one of the green figures beyond. There was a squeal, and the door slammed shut in an explosion of goo. Everything was silent.

Leon dropped the sword and sank to the ground, his back against the door. "What-the-bloody-hell?"

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome," he said, and went back to sleep.

…

_**A/N:**__ Obviously we take some poetic license with Gwaine's backstory here (not that we expect anyone to follow it at this point!), but with the aim to try to tie it to some of the source material: Our Gwaine is the son of Loth (from Monmouth, _Historia Regum Brittaniae_) who was the brother of the canon King Lot in _Merlin_. Loth eloped with a princess of Orkney (Gawain and his brothers are from Orkney in the _Vulgate_ or _Lancelot_-_Grail Cycle_) and thereafter served Caerleon, from whence the info we get in the canon episode 3.04 "Gwaine" comes. The names Gwalchmai and Gwarae are other names for Gawain himself in early Welsh versions of King Arthur stories, Gwalhafed is Gawain's brother in _Culhwch ac Olwen_, and Gaheris and Gareth are Gawain's brothers from Malory's _Le Morte d'Arthur_. _


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:**__ In which we find out what the baddies are up to, the real adventure begins, and Merlin may show up in the next few chapters…_

…

Gwaine woke slowly, groggy, to soft knocking on the door. Hm. He hadn't remembered getting into his own bed. Didn't remember much of anything about last night, as a matter of fact.

Unless...

Naaaaaaaaaaahhh.

Gwaine opened his eyes and lurched upright as the knocking continued. Yes, this was his bed all right. He was more or less dressed, though without armor, belt and boots. His breath tasted foul, but a wash of whiskey should take care of that. How much had he had last night?

And what was Leon doing in his room? He was propped up on the floor, opposite him, leaning against the door, his head fallen forward in sleep.

Perhaps all that _wasn't_ just a dream. _Great_...

The knocking continued, louder now. "Sir Gwaine? Gwaine, get up, already!"

_Lancelot_?

The door rattled.

"It's stuck," he heard muffled through the door. Percival.

"Leon's not in his room, either. We training today or not?" Elyan.

"Here, would you look at this door?" Lancelot said. "Nearly smashed in!"

The door rattled again, harder, and Leon stirred. Suddenly, his head snapped up: he leapt to his feet in attack position. His face flashed through confusion before it arrived on Gwaine, and he glowered. "You all right?" he asked.

"Am _I _all right?" Gwaine bridled. Even if last night had been real, it was still going to take some getting used to the idea of Leon caring... "What happened last night? What time is it?"

Leon looked sore, tired, but not hungover. He pulled open the ruined door to greet Percival's shoulder as he seemed about to break the door down. There Percival, Elyan, and Lancelot stood, looking confused to see Leon there.

"What time is it?" Leon demanded.

_Maybe he didn't get how awkward this could look_? Gwaine wondered. _Oh, to be so innocent!  
><em>  
>"Uh. It's half noon, Sir Leon," Percy stammered. "Training?"<p>

"Oh, my head," Lancelot complained. "What a night...!"

"...We could all just forget about training today," Elyan offered, hopefully. "You know. Let you two-rest?"

Leon gave them a deadpan look. "No, there will be training as usual. Er-Lancelot, have a rest-I'll leave you in charge, today. Gwaine and I have matters of state to attend to. Thanks." _God, he appeared so unruffled! Like a bloody rooster!_

"Uh. Yes, sir, right away," they said, and scampered off.

Leon tried to close the door, but it was clear the hinges had taken about all they could handle and wouldn't budge again. As he turned back to him, Gwaine couldn't resist. He pulled a blanket up over his chest daintily and said in as much of a falsetto as he could manage, "Oh, Sir Leon, I'm flattered. But now people will talk, and my father will insist that you marry me!"

Leon replied by throwing a shirt in his face. "Shut up," he said, sounding more irritated at his antics than genuinely mad at him. "Are you fit?"

Gwaine scoffed. "Am I fit!" _Was there wine still left in Albion?_

"Good. Put a clean shirt on, we've got work to do."

"We've got what who now?" Gwaine still needed a drink to bring the world back into focus.

"There's goblins in the palace."

Gwaine stopped, his shirt hanging around his neck. Leon was out the door and halfway down the hall already. Slowly a grin spread over his face.

"You coming?" Leon called.

"_Oh_ yeah!"

…

Leon strode towards the council chambers purposefully. This goblin problem was certainly getting out of hand, and the council needed to be notified. After that, a new action plan could be arrived at.

Oh, the journal entry he'd have tonight...

It was only then that on the periphery of his consciousness he was aware of Gwaine dogging his steps excitedly. He was saying , "I told you so, I told you so, but no, you wouldn't listen, oh no! And I would have beaten you in that fight anyway, which is particularly hilarious because your probably a foot taller than me and I could still beat you! But you know the best thing is that I told you so, isn't it, because you can't say I didn't, you have to admit that I was right and you were wrong, don't you-"

Leon turned around and threw Gwaine up against a wall, and said, very civilly, "I was wrong. You were right. Will you please shut up, now?"

Gwaine cleared his throat. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Leon snapped.

Gwaine coughed and looked down at his dangling feet. Leon put him down quickly. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Anyway, we've got more important things to do-there's a goblin infestation."

"Say no more, blondie-wait-did you say infestation?"

"Yes. I saw four in the coffers, and five tried to break in and kill us."

"Oh. Why would they try to kill us?"

It made Leon incredibly jealous that Gwaine just took his word for it, but he tried to ignore his anger. "I don't know. I didn't think goblins did that sort of thing. But I've only heard stories."

"Something odd is going on, I wager."

"Hmm. We'll have to tell the council."

"Right. And when they've laughed us out of the room like you did me, what will we do?"

"They won't-" but they probably would. Gwaine certainly looked too hungover to be believed, and he probably didn't look much better. "Alright, fine. I came up with a goblin trap last night. In theory it should work again, if there are no interruptions." He paused. "We should get started right away."

"Right."

They started toward the coffers.

"Oh-and Leon?"

"Yes?"

"I told you so."

Leon tried not to get angry again. But he only broke into an exasperated grin, and he shoved Gwaine off him as he ruffled his hair.

…

"This is not going to work."

"It certainly worked last night!"

"Yeah...on Lancelot!"

There was a pause.

"Hur hur hur."

"Shut up. I need to concentrate."

"This is so _contrived_, Leon! No goblin's ever going to fall for this! It's rubbish!"

"Come on, let's hide behind here. And keep your voice down."

"And what good is it going to do to catch just one?"

"We only need one. And be quiet!"

"_And _alive, that's stupid. What we need is something big and flat and heavy, squash them all at once, so that-"

_**BOOM!  
><strong>_  
><em>"Oi! Bugger this, lemme outta 'ere!"<br>_  
>"Told you so."<p>

"Shut up. Anyway, I don't see what good these 'humane' traps do, anyway, we'll let it out outside the castle walls and it'll just come right back in again!" A pause. "Unless...!"

"Don't look so excited, Gwaine, we are _not_torturing the prisoner. We are Knights of the Round Table and-"

"Oh, you're no fun!"

…

Leon glared at Gwaine, and knelt down by the box, which was rattling ominously. Putting one hand on top of the box to keep it still, he rapped hard on the side of the box as he shouted, "Oi!"

Gwaine blinked at Leon. "Oi?"

"I'm trying to speak its language!"

"'Oi' isn't foreign—unless its French or something—"

"Will you shut up?"

"Lemme out, ye daft wigeons!" the goblin snarled.

"Look, we will let you out if you say who sent you to kill us."

"Sharn't!"

"I think he means 'no'," Gwaine said helpfully.

"Will you please be _quiet_!" Leon snapped.

"I'm aten't tellin you nothin', blondie! Nor you, shortie!"

"Look, if you _don't _tell us, we'll—chop your head off."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

The goblin scrabbled at the inside of the box. "You Camelot softies won't touch an 'air on my 'ead!"

"He's right, you know. That didn't even convince me."

"Do you have a better idea, shortie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do…"

…

"I mean an idea that doesn't involve breaking the Knight's Code!" Leon growled.

Gwaine looked offended. "What did you think I was going to _torture_ the poor bugger?" he said, even as he thought_, Damn, he guessed. Quick, new plan_.

"Hey, stop that!" Leon said, swatting at him.

"Lend us a few quid," Gwaine insisted, tugging at the purse on Leon's belt.

"What do you-"

"Hey. Gobber. Can I call you gobber?" Gwaine said, nonchalantly leaning against the bucket and grinning widely.

"Up yours, shortie!"

"Fine," Gwaine said, rattling some coins in his hand. "Guess I'll go spend these on drink."

There was a pause.

"These?" the goblin asked. "These _what_?"

"These tasty, shiny, scrumptious-looking gold coins. Guess I'll go give 'em up to Stuart the barkeep-and if you've ever met Stuart the barkeep, you'll know that once he gets his fat hands on a gold coin there's absolutely no getting them-"

"Me! Me! Meeeeeee!" The goblin began shouting hysterically, kicking and struggling against the box so that both Leon and Gwaine had to hold it down. "Give them to meeee!"

"I dunno," Gwaine said, enjoying this far too much, clinking the coins together in his palm. "Three coins is quite a lot to just give away to an uncooperative goblin..."

"Gwaine!" Leon hissed. "You can't _negotiate _with it! It's an enemy of Camelot!"

"Look, do you want to find out who's behind all this or don't you?"

"Okay, okay!" The goblin shrieked. "I'll talk! I'll talk! Please, please, pleeeeeease, just let me touch the gold, good Sir Gwaine?"

Gwaine raised his eyebrows at Leon and winked at him before sliding one gold coin beneath the box.

Orgasmic noises issued from the box that frankly embarrassed Gwaine.

"Right," he said, banging on the top of the box. "There's more where that came from after you talk."

"Lady Morgana!" the creature whined. "She's said she'll pay us a large sum for killing you lot and causing mischief! Now gimme!"

Leon looked surprised. But Gwaine remained skeptical.

"Fine. I'm off to the tavern. I say we leave him in there overnight to cool down, Leon..."

"Waaaaaaait! Wait wait wait! Where's my gold, meatsack?"

"Rude and a liar. Told you. Can never trust a goblin," Gwaine said, clinking the coins together for good measure. "Well, I'm off to the pub to make Stuart a little richer. You coming, Leon?"

"It-well, it just did what you wanted..."

Gwaine laughed. "Ha! You believe that? He's just squealing like a pig, telling us what we want to hear. Why I could probably belch a more convincing lie than that-"

"Noooooooo! Nononononononononoooooo! It's true, I tells ya! All true! Morgana's at Tintagel! Planning to take over Camelot while Arthur's gone, and she's paying us to kill the knights in charge as we can before she stages her attack! Pleaseohpleaseohplease gimme the gold! I told ya all I knowed!"

It was actually horrible to listen to, but that sounded like a genuine confession to Gwaine, who was himself an expert liar.

Gwaine slid the two gold pieces under the box. While the goblin was then distracted by his newfound riches, Gwaine quickly tipped the box over and grabbed the goblin by the throat.

"Thank you," he said sweetly, before his face darkened into the picture of barely-contained rage and the promise of death. "Now. If I ever see you in Camelot again, see, I'll kill you, take your gold, kill your family, take your family's gold, and spend it all on drink until I'm dancing naked on top of a table, understand me?"

The goblin nodded, horrified, and when Gwaine dropped him, he was gone in a flash.


	12. Chapter 12

"Right," Gwaine said, jumping up. "Tintagel, is it? Why, that's not too far from here. Get the beer and sausages—it's questing time!"

And he would have run off to fetch the horses, but Leon grabbed the nape of his chain mail just in time. Gwaine's legs tried to run on without him. "What?" he snapped.

"We can't just leave now," Leon said, holding him still.

"Why not?" Gwaine shoved him off. "Arthur left us in charge, we can do whatever we want—"

"Exactly. He left _us _in charge. Who's going to look after Camelot while we're gone?"

The pair fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Elyan?" Gwaine said. "He is the Queen's brother, after all."

"Absolutely not! Gwen told me enough stories about him."

"A responsibility shirker, eh?"

"He burnt a house to the ground!" Leon frowned. "Percival, perhaps?"

As the words left his lips, he was struck by a vision of what Camelot would look like upon their return. It involved a lot of people throwing each other about, giving each other manly handshakes and taking to removing their shirtsleeves. Leon glanced at Gwaine—the vaguely confused look on his face told him had had just thought the same thing.

"Sorry, never mind," Leon said quickly.

"Okay, what about Bors?"

"Too young."

"Balin?"

"Balin's an ass."

There was a knock at the door.

"Gwaine—there you are. I was wondering if you had something to cure a hangover, please? This headache's driving me mad…"

Lancelot walked in, holding his head sheepishly.

"I wouldn't ask," he continued. "Only it's really...what are you two grinning for?"

…

Ahh, nothing like questing! The open air, the freedom, the adventure!

The bugs, the cold, the rain...Leon's irritating silence...

It turned out, though he should have expected as much, that Sir Leon was really boring in long stretches. Gwaine couldn't remember another time where they'd been in each other's company for such a length of time and with no one else around. So Gwaine did most of the talking. Which was fine by him! He was just relating the events of the King's wedding celebration, and he had just gotten to the part where he and the four ladies he was with started playing strip poker and—

"I think we'll camp here for the night," Leon said. Probably the first words out of him all day.

"Oh. Em. All right. Yes, let's. I'm famished."

He expected a jab about him always being famished, but nothing was forthcoming. The continued silence as they unpacked their horses and set up camp was even more telling.

Was Leon _mad _at him?

Gwaine was left wondering for almost an hour more as they got the fire started and proceeded to sit around it munching cold sausage and drinking warm beer and continuing to not talk.

Apparently, at some point in all of this, Leon had mercy on him:

"I was very angry," he said suddenly, "about what you told Lady Elaine."

Gwaine pulled his head out of the pack, where he had been searching for a biscuit he might have left in the bottom from the last time they were questing. "Eh?"

"I mean—I kept your secret. No reason why you should have made me take the blame twice over." He poked at the fire. "I know you fancy so many girls, but some people are particular for one."

"Oh!" Gwaine was startled by this: not only what Leon was saying surprised him, but also the very fact that he was saying it at all came as a shock. Leon was the aloof, distant Great Leader of Men, he didn't talk about his feelings, and certainly not to Gwaine! "Em," he tried. "I. Ah. Was trying to help, don't you know."

Leon raised his eyebrows.

"No, really! Wasn't trying to horn in your action, mate, honest. I was trying to help! I was working the right angle and everything. Can't have her getting hot and bothered thinking of me thinking of her in the buff, now can we?"

"Girls don't think like that," Leon said, with a naïveté that was frankly adorable, and added, with less certainty, "They've got—natural modesty. And things." He took a swig from the canteen, suddenly all business. "It doesn't really matter, anyway. She won't look at me again."

"Oho!" Gwaine laughed and actually clapped Leon on the back at that. "That is where you are wrong, sir! You'll forgive me, Leon, but I believe that since I have _significantly _more experience in this...area...than, ah...you."

This wasn't working. Leon seemed really upset!

Gwaine sighed. "I mean, I thank you for covering for me like that with her Da, and believe me, it was nothing but an accident. And it's not like I didn't pay for it, you know, falling two stories on me back-"

"Two stories!" Leon exclaimed.

"Well, I say two. It was really three, but I took a level off for going through the two awnings. Anyway, this isn't about me... This is about, erm, well, me. Being an ass, I mean, as usual. Maybe?" He grinned hopefully.

God, Leon was giving him that _disappointed_ look. He hated that! Why did it have to be _disappointed_? Why couldn't he ever get properly angry? Enraged, even? Throw him up against a wall, he could deal with that! Gwaine _hated_it when Leon looked disappointed at him!

"Is that an apology?"

Gwaine grimaced. "I guess...I'm sorry?"

No, that wasn't right, Leon just scowled more: "You _guess_?"

Yep. Definitely disappointed.

Gwaine recovered quickly, firming up his tone and his resolve. "No, I _am_ sorry." He paused, wondering how far he should, could, ought to, and wanted to go with this. "In fact, I'm _more _than sorry!" That was an idea. And the poor bugger clearly needed his help. "I'll make it up to you, Leon. I vow never to rest, metaphorically speaking, of course, as these things take time—"

"Er—"

"—until you and the Lady Elaine have admitted your love for one another—"

"—_What_?—"

"—and are living happily ever after!"

"Now, hold on—"

"Great! Now that that's settled," Gwaine said, jumping to his feet, "I think I'll go kill us something to eat—"

"Wait a second, I never said—"

Leon also jumped up, and was bowled over by a figure in blue that leapt out of the shadows.

"Gerroff me!" Leon said.

"What the hell?" Gwaine said.

"Er...help!" the figure said.

Drawing his sword, Leon scrambled to his feet to join Gwaine, who also had his sword drawn. Now they could properly view the intruder in the light of the fire, they shouted in unison—

_"Merlin?"_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N:**__ We thought Merlin deserved his own chapter, so here you go! Now that he's here, it feels like things have settled down… Or just got started!_

_As a reminder, this was co-written with B.A. Murdock and another friend, so I take only 1/3 of the credit. Hope you enjoy! This story is finished (we try to update daily), but drop us a line if you would like to see something in the future adventures of Leon, Gwaine, Merlin, and the rest of Camelot! (Yes, we do get all the regular cast members back eventually!)_

…

Oh, sure, everything had started out well. Rather, things has started out well if you ignored being the third-wheel manservant to the newlywed king and queen. Actually, the traveling had been quite tolerable, riding along behind the carriage with nary a command to follow. Arthur was much less worried about making his life difficult when he was making calf-eyes at his new wife, and Gwen had never been the type to make his life hard in the first place. Not a single person, creature, or enchanted inanimate object tried to assassinate Arthur.

Things were really going quite well, he thought as he brushed down all of the horses. Arthur, working for once, was trying to set up a tent next to the picturesque little stream he'd found. Merlin, who'd set up his fair share of camps with no assistance whatsoever from Arthur, saw immediately exactly what was going to happen. The right corner was, at any moment, going to skid off the damp mossy stone upon which it rested right into the stream, which would then swamp the entire corner of the fabric monstrosity, leaving Gwen and Arthur to sleep either in a damp tent or no tent at all. While he doubted Gwen would have cared, Merlin was sure that would make Arthur cranky, and by extension his own life infinitely more difficult.

"That's going to fall into the stream," he said over Arthur's horse's shoulder, continuing to brush the horse's dark brown mane. Arthur turned and looked at him with one of those patented, "I have no idea what you're saying but it better be important" looks.

"The tent corner, there, is going to fall into the stream," Merlin repeated, pointing for Arthur's benefit at the right corner of the tent. Arthur attempted to drag it off the rock, but since he already had two other corners of the tent tied down, it wouldn't budge. Merlin watched as Arthur ineffectually tried to move the tent for a few more moments, to Gwen's amusement as she stood nearby watching.

"You have to move the corners first," Merlin remarked, walking over toward the tent and yanking up the other two corners.

"When you set up one of these, leave the corners until last. That way, you can move it. No, not like that, you have to drag it away. No, not like that either. Look, like this. You should set tents up more often," he said, and as he was about to go on merrily harassing Arthur—

"Merlin—"

"And perhaps your knights—"

"Merlin,"

"That way they won't be in the way—"

"Merlin!" He stopped motoring his mouth and looked at Arthur. In the meantime, he'd set up the last corner, dragged the tent away from the stream, and tied it to wooden stakes in the ground—all without thinking. He gave Arthur a look with raised eyebrows.

"Shut up."

Well, that was the thanks you got for being helpful. Merlin snorted, rolled his eyes, and went to make supper.

Later, when the fires were banked and everyone seemed to be sleeping but the two sentries—even on their honeymoon, the King and Queen had to be wary of becoming targets—Merlin sat and poked sticks into the largest fire. There was a crackling out in the forest, as of a deer, or perhaps a fox, but the sentries both went to check it out anyway, crossing the camp and ignoring Merlin as they went.

Then, as always seemed to happen, there was a crash, two surprised cries, and a great looming shape cannoned through the trees, startling Merlin into jumping out of the way as it went right through the banked coals, bugling as it trampled around. Arthur appeared, shirt half tucked in and sword ready to slice off something's head. The deer-like beast swung huge antlers around and bright white teeth shone sharp in its open jaws as it swung Arthur's direction. Well that wasn't going to work, it would trample the tent, Arthur, and Gwen like it had the guards, who had no yet emerged from the trees into whence they'd disappeared.

"Hey! Over here! Hey you… deer… monster… thing!" Merlin shouted, throwing a rock hard at the beast's hind end.

"Merlin, what are you…" Arthur shouted, sounding annoyed as usual, though perhaps also a little alarmed. Merlin waved him off, turned, and crashed away through the forest. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with running around in the forest at night—although rarely in the lead of some carnivorous deer-beast with horns as wide as a horse was long. He jumped a log, careened around a tree and splashed through probably the same stream they'd camped by.

The deer-beast kept up admirably, and Merlin could hear the thrashing of its massive horns as they smashed into or over smaller trees and clattered against bigger ones, and when he once turned to see how much of a lead he had, those unnaturally sharp teeth were bared. They were far sharper than a wolf's. Actually, if anything, they reminded him of the Dragon's teeth. A dragon deer, just his luck.

As he swung himself around on a tree trunk and forced the beast to stop, turn, and thunder after him (but further back now) he suddenly found himself leaping over a fire and colliding with something that sprung up in his face. He went down in a sprawling heap, and the thing he'd collided with shouted.

"Geroff me!" That voice sounded oddly familiar.

"What the hell?" Yes, that voice definitely rung a bell. Realizing who he'd run into, Merlin scrambled to his feet and, skipping any pleasantries and instead gasping for help, turned to pinpoint the sounds of the approaching beast. He found himself at Leon and Gwaine's swordpoints, their twin looks of consternation—a different look for each of them, amusingly enough—not quite mirroring his own of near-terror.

"Deer! Er… monster! Monster deer!" he said finally, pointing past both knights to the approaching sounds of something very large and very angry crashing through the trees.

...

_**A/N: **Aaaaaand looks like we finally got a mythical beast in here! Pulling out all the_ Merlin_ tropes!_


	14. Chapter 14

Leon was once again unceremoniously knocked down my Merlin just as the beast came crashing through the trees. It was a huge thing—bigger than any deer he'd ever seen! Apparently it had forgotten all about Merlin, and busied itself with stamping out the fire while Merlin huddled behind a fallen log.

"Look at the size of it!" Leon said, sitting up to get a better look.

"Get down!" Merlin said urgently, tugging at his chain mail. But Leon wasn't paying attention-years of growing up horseback chasing down deer in the forest made him willing to turn a blind eye to the creature's size, its huge fangs, its red eyes. It had to be twenty-five pointer! It must have fantastic meat. Arthur was right about hunting—it may not mend a broken heart, but it's good fun!

"Hand me that crossbow!" he told Merlin, unaware of the giddy excitement in his voice. He could feel his usual caution slipping away.

"What?" Merlin looked at him as if he was mad, and said, "Are you mad?"

"Arthur will never believe it!—it's absolutely gorgeous!" Of course what Leon saw in his well-bred mind was a bit more picturesque than what the beast really looked like. But that didn't matter. Just at that moment the animal snorted and charged off into the trees. Without missing a beat Leon leapt to his feet, grabbed a crossbow, and pounded after it.

"Hurry, Merlin! Come on! We can't let it get away! Gwaine! Head it off, quick!"

…

Gwaine and Merlin stared after Leon.

"Head it...off?" he repeated.

Did they really just see that? I mean, this wasn't Percival or Elyan or one of the other knights. This wasn't even Gwaine himself, which would have been infinitely more believable. This was _Sir Leon_. The only one of them for whom the "Sir" part was natural, was practically a part of his name.

He didn't just...go off like that!

Gwaine was...outraged? For a single guilty moment he realized what it was to be the one standing behind trying to sort things out while someone else charged heedlessly off into danger for no apparently good reason. He had a struggle with his conscience, but fortunately won out, and snapped out of it with a, "So he is a man, after all!"

"This isn't funny, Gwaine!"

"You're right. What the hell does he think he's doing?" he cried. "That's a Sailetheach, not the bloody white hart!"

"I, ah...think he's hunting it," Merlin said sheepishly. He seemed accustomed to explaining the stupid antics of the nobs and nobility. He needed to get out more. Then, "Wait, you know what that thing _is_?"

"Yeah, saw one once, hunting party in Tara, but only the Irish are crazy enough to take one of those beasts down. I've seen one bite a hound clean in half! And it took twelve of us then to kill it!"

Merlin was looking pale, though, so he stopped.

Leon's desperate cries of "Gwaine! He's getting away, Gwaine!" grew fainter in the night, so he laughed, stood, and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Look, come on. I'd much rather bring Arthur enough venison for a year than explain to him how Goldilocks went and got himself killed."

He ran on ahead, only noticing after a moment that Merlin wasn't following. "Come on, Merlin, I want you to stick close to me!" he called. "Take my crossbow, it's weakest in the eye and knee-joints."

…

It took Merlin's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness after the deer monster reduced the fire into charcoal ash. He took advantage of the moment and hunkered down behind a fallen tree, only to find that he was the only one doing so. Leon, in a very un-Leon-like show of nobleman idiocy was watching the monster with… admiration? Did he actually want to hunt that thing?

He didn't even pay attention when Merlin tried to get him to stop drawing attention to himself. What was it with the knights and hunting things? First Arthur thought he'd take on the deer single-handed and half asleep, and now Leon wanted to _hunt _it?

"It's not gorgeous! It's a slavering monster deer!" he hissed as he nonetheless handed Leon the crossbow. Who was he to question a direct order from one of Arthur's knights? Ok, so he did it all the time. But that was beside the point. Knowing that Arthur had, in fact, left both Gwaine and Leon in charge, Merlin looked to Gwaine to prevent Leon from going off after something that would probably kill him, then chew him up and leave various limbs strewn about for ten miles around.

Gwaine thought it was funny. They were all insane, and here was the proof Merlin had been looking for all these months. He looked at the crossbow Gwaine shoved at him like it was also going to bite him and took off after Gwaine and Leon, muttering the whole time.

"Of course. No one is crazy enough to hunt one of those! No one except the Irish and—" he paused for a moment as he nearly ran into Gwaine, who'd stopped crashing around to listen for the sounds of Leon presumably either killing the deer or being killed himself. Gwaine took off running again and Merlin trotted after him, "No one except the Irish and Arthur's knights." he grumbled as they finally caught up with Leon and the—what had Gwaine called it? A Sailetheach?

Leon had cornered the beast against a rock wall, and it had predictably turned and had its horns down, sharp teeth bared and bright red eyes glaring hatred at the knight armed with only a crossbow.

"Didn't you just say no one but the Irish are crazy enough to hunt that?" Merlin asked Gwaine as they all stood there at a momentary impasse. Gwaine looked at him and shrugged.

"Maybe he's part Irish," he answered and clapped him on the shoulder again before propelling Merlin toward Leon and the beast where he could keep an eye on him.

The beast chose that moment to charge, causing Merlin to jump to the left and the knights to the right. Rather than taking the opportunity to escape, the monster shrieked, turned, and charged again with frightening speed at Gwaine and Leon, who were not quite prepared for the attack.

Merlin fired a crossbow bolt… and found that when he'd jumped, it'd fallen out of the bow. Splendid.

With no other recourse that didn't involve trampled knights, and since he was currently obscured by both darkness and a giant deer, he muttered under his breath at a tree just as the Sailetheach passed by, causing a limb to fall and entangle its horns. With a bugle of rage, it flung its head in the air and left an opening between flailing forelimbs and sharp pointy teeth for Gwaine to shout, "HA!" and dive in to slice it across the knee. It went down, disentangled itself from the tree, and was about to scrabble back onto its feet—sort of—when there was a _thwock! _followed by the sound of a crossbow bolt thunking into something solid. For a moment the deer was still, and then it crumpled. Gwaine stood, sword still out, and looked at Leon, who looked from the deer to the other knight.

"That was a good shot," Gwaine admitted to Leon as they both stepped forward to see the crossbow bolt buried neatly in the dead deer monster's eye.

"You can come out now, Merlin," Leon laughed, apparently assuming Merlin had been hiding behind another tree.

"Good job that it got caught in a tree so you could trip it," he said to Gwaine as Merlin joined them, looking very annoyed but saying nothing. Both knights looked at the tree, whose branch was now hanging slightly crooked due to being pulled half off by the deer as it went down.

"Yeah, good job!" Gwaine agreed, but he was looking at Merlin and grinning as he said it. Merlin avoided doing anything really stupid like whistling innocently (mostly because he wasn't very good at whistling), but he did glance at his feet as if something had caught his attention, and then coughed and looked at the deer.

"How are you going to get that back to Camelot? It'll take two horses… at least. Probably three," he said, jabbing it with a foot.

"Why, we'll let you carry it! It should only take you… six trips? I suggest starting with an arm," Gwaine said helpfully, and Merlin glared at him, but was saved from answering by more crashing. He didn't even bother raising the boltless crossbow, instead stepping out of the knights' line of sight—just in case—as two guards on horseback came galloping up.

"Arthur sent us to make sure you hadn't got yourself killed," they explained to Merlin, looking warily at the monster deer's corpse. Leon stepped forward, once again looking the responsible, level-headed knight.

"Well, then, you may take this back to Arthur with our compliments—" he started, but in a moment Gwaine broke in over Sir Leon's formality.

"But since you'll need Merlin's horse to carry the thing all the way back to Camelot when Arthur sends you back, he can stay with us."

"Take that back? But…" one guard started, looking exceedingly doubtful, but Gwaine clapped his hands and grinned broadly.

"Glad that's settled!" he said, and started tromping off back through the forest. Leon, in typical nobleman fashion, ignored the beast now that the chase was over and followed Gwaine, leaving Merlin and the two guards.

"Come on, Merlin, keep up!" Gwaine hollered back a moment later, and Merlin muttered an apology before following after the two knights.


	15. Chapter 15

"You know, Merlin," Gwaine said, slinging an arm around Merlin's skinny shoulders as they walked back to camp, "I only said that in case you needed a break from Arthur; you don't _really _have to come with if you don't like."

"Er, well..."

Leon appeared on his other side. "Quite right. You may as well know that we are on our way to Tintagel, and it is likely to be very dangerous. In fact, I've half a mind to order you back to Arthur." Leon said this last bit with a glare at Gwaine, clearly for not consulting him first.

"What's going on at-you two aren't _seriously _thinking of storming Morgana's castle, are you?"

"No," Leon said, just as Gwaine said "Yeah!" but quickly added, "Only joking."

"Camelot has been infested with goblins ever since Arthur left," Leon explained, "and we have reason to believe they are working for Morgana. This is a reconnaissance mission _only_—" Funny, he seemed to be talking to Merlin, but he kept glancing at Gwaine. "As you know, Morgana's palace is poorly staffed, so infiltrating it enough to capture her payment to the goblins would not be an impossible task for two well-trained knights."

"Okay, look, you still insulting me, mate, or was that a compliment?" Gwaine demanded.

"I...beg your pardon?" Leon looked lost. Which was good. Gwaine wasn't about to break his nose for something he simply couldn't help, even if his arrogance was beginning to grate on his nerves again. Good thing Merlin was here.

Probably, as it would turn out, a _very _good thing Merlin was here, considering the abilities of their opponent, although Gwaine didn't follow this train of thought very far.

"Well, I leave the decision to you," Leon added magnanimously. "It will be a potentially dangerous quest, but I believe you could be useful."

"Keeping in mind the alternative is going back to being the third wheel on a royal honeymoon," Gwaine laughed, and Merlin, who had looked thoughtful for a few seconds, nodded quickly.

"No, yeah, I'll take my chances with Morgana and hordes of goblins, thanks."

…

_**A/N:**__ Another short post, but with some proper exposition in it. We really felt that Morgana stuck in a hovel for Season 4 was depressing (really? she manages to cause _all_ that trouble and not be able to take herself a proper palace?), so we assumed an upgrade for her. Stay tuned as the boys have fun storming the castle in the very next chapter!_


	16. Chapter 16

Leon worried. He always worried. It was probably why he was so bloody thin and gaunt, and why his hair was thinning.

Merlin and Gwaine traded jokes as they rode the rest of the day toward Tintagel, to the backdrop of Leon's silent worried thoughts. At the moment he worried about going on this mission with another young man who had no fighting experience, to foil the plots of Lady Morgana at a castle that Arthur did not know she had. His better judgment kept nagging him throughout the rest of the journey about future problems, so much so that he did not think of the present danger until all three of them were pressed up against the cold stone of the outer walls surrounding Tintagel.

"There's got-to be a back door—'round here some—where," Merlin puffed. They had to run the last hundred yards or so to the base of the wall, and Merlin was severely winded.

"I should have thought this through," Leon said, "We shouldn't've come."

"What, is the lion cowardly after all?" Gwaine said.

Leon's eyes darted around the top of the wall. "It's too easy."

"Too easy is nothing to complain about," Merlin said, who had gotten his breath back. "There's a door to the tower just there."

In a moment they were climbing the winding stairs. Empty stairs, Leon noted. Surely a tower of this size had some tactical use? Then why were there no guards?

"Now, if I were a pot of gold, where would I hide?" Gwaine asked. He poked his head in a few random doors. "She's got to be keeping the gold she's using to bribe the goblins around here."

"Conceivably there'd be guards," Leon said pointedly. "We should take position in—"

Gwaine laughed. "Come on, granddad, if I'm going to have to hold your hand the whole way, I might as well have left you at—"

Gwaine stopped talking, which was very uncharacteristic of him. Leon bounded up the stairs in the direction of Gwaine's voice. He had stepped into one of the rooms coming off the staircase, and Leon jumped inside—Merlin ran into him as he skidded to a halt just inside the doorway.

There was a half circle of black-clad soldiers standing in the room. He counted them quickly—twenty-five swords.

"This was easier than I thought."

This voice was all to familiar to Leon. He looked up, and there on the balcony of a room one level up was Lady Morgana, smiling warmly at them. She looked as beautiful and terrible as she did when she stood over him as Queen of Camelot. It made his stomach turn.

"Leon, I'm surprised at you," she said. "Not on top form today, I suppose." She shrugged dramatically. "It's probably beneath my dignity to kill you. Die well, knights of Camelot."

And with that she just walked away.

Leon drew his sword as the soldiers rushed them.

…

Gwaine did a double-take as Leon stepped past him, as if he was in slow-motion, his cloak and hair somehow whipping dramatically in the breezeless tower.

"What d'you think you're doing?" Gwaine cried, also drawing his sword but yanking Leon back. "Stay behind me!" he demanded.

Leon's eyes flashed, insulted.

But Gwaine's eyes sparkled. "Well, someone's got to lead us out of here!"

Gwaine parried the first attacker and kicked him in the chest, back into the second two, giving them enough wiggle room for Gwaine to shove both Merlin and Leon back and out the door they came.

"You can't run!" Morgana's laughter followed them, and another score of guards met them in the corridor.

"Damn!" Gwaine swore, and he and Leon drew together, swords swinging. They kept Merlin between them, but beyond that, they seemed out of options.

So Gwaine laughed a bit. "There's only twenty for each of us!" he called to Leon. Leon might have laughed, or that might have been the dying scream of whatever poor sod who hadn't got up early enough in the morning to tangle with the Knights of Camelot!

As Gwaine skewered one guard, he relieved him of his sword and tossed it back to Merlin. He flashed Merlin his patented Sugar-We're-Going-Down-Swinging grin and, "That should even the odds," he laughed.

But things were looking grim. Gwaine was getting desperate, his eyes flicking around the narrow corridor for something, anything, when he spotted it: the window! They were some stories up, sure, but a few bruises and breaks was nothing compared to getting hacked to death by Morgana's guards, right?

"To the window!"

Funny how his lips hadn't moved. _Leon _had just given the order! He'd have to congratulate him later on thinking outside his helmet. Gwaine forced a few of the guards further back with a wide sweep of his weapon, pivoting and wedging himself in between the window and the horde. "Merlin, you first!"

"Not _that _window!" Leon hissed, jerking his head at one he had just sectioned off. Gwaine rushed over to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, covering Merlin as he muttered something that was probably hilarious but drowned out by the sound of clanging swords before leaping out and down with a cry.

The fight continued for a moment, as an awkward decision approached.

"Ladies first," Gwaine grinned.

"No, go on ahead, Gwaine, I'll cover you," Leon insisted.

"No, seriously. _I _take rear guard, I always take rear guard."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Gwaine!"

"Oh, come on," Gwaine grunted, as together, he and Leon locked swords and pressed the foremost guards back enough for breathing space, and he glanced at Leon sidelong. "You're the fearless leader, remember?" He winked then, and, realizing he would probably regret this, actually shoved Leon bodily out the window.

…

_**A/N**__: Enter Morgana! Don't worry, we haven't seen the last of her, because the boys won't get away so easily! By the way, we haven't decided whether to leave Morgause alive for our AU. She doesn't feature here, but any ideas for future adventures?_


	17. Chapter 17

Throwing Merlin a sword did not, in fact, even up the odds. Rather, unused to fighting in close quarters, he first nearly dropped the thing on his own foot in surprise—it wasn't every day someone threw a sword at you. Vases, shoes, chain mail, even armor pieces, but not a fully sharpened sword. Before he could even get a decent handle on the thing and start swinging, Gwaine had shoved him toward a window, through which Merlin saw…very sharp rocks.

"Er, Gwaine—" he started to say, but Leon had already found a more suitable window from which to jump. Since Gwaine was busy dealing with the five or so soldiers who particularly seemed to want to kill him, Merlin made a subtle gesture with his hand and with a word, caused two of Gwaine's attackers and two of Leon's to suddenly lose control of their own weapons. Oh, they didn't float in the air and attack them, as that would have been blatantly obvious. But he did grin in satisfaction as he watched the soldiers swing their weapons and accidentally hit their fellow soldiers. It left them enough of a breathing space to cut across the room to Leon's window.

Holding the sword as far from himself as possible to minimize the chances of falling on it, Merlin jumped through the window frame. He stopped his own fall for the briefest of moments before realizing he was about to land not on rocks or cobblestones, but in a hay cart. A hay cart? What was Morgana doing leaving haycarts lying around outside windows? Then again, she hadn't always been the cleverest of enemies. He dropped the rest of the way and landed with a soft thud, rolling away and throwing the sword out of the cart before Leon, apparently pushed by Gwaine and screaming... well, not quite like a girl, but close... tumbled unceremoniously out the window and landed flailing in the cart. As he scrambled out of the way, he looked up at the window and muttered something uncomplimentary at his fellow knight, who shortly followed him through the window—albeit with more grace.

"How dare you—" Leon started as soon as Gwaine could reasonably be expected to realize he was about to get the lecture of his life—and mid battle, no less.

"Right, but do you want to shout at me or find the gold?" Gwaine asked, waving Leon silent and dropping over the edge of the haycart. Leon, still looking irritated, scrambled out of the cart after him, and Merlin followed. Rather, he would have followed, but it seemed Merlin hadn't been giving Morgana enough credit- more armed men arrived to surround the cart.

"Do they never end? Where is she getting all of them?" Gwaine asked, apparently dumbfounded, as he met the first three of them.

"If you have to ask…" Merlin said, implying of course that she probably wasn't recruiting these soldiers in any honest way. Again, because he was getting tired of being outnumbered five or six to one, he gestured behind his back and watched as enemy swords started swinging wide, or backwards. Between Gwaine, Leon, and the renegade blades, the little battalion that had attacked them was soon lying scattered about, leaving the way clear. Merlin hopped out of the hay cart and tried to brush himself off, but who was he kidding? He spent half of his life with bits of hay sticking out of his hair and his clothes. Leon and Gwaine were likewise trying to get the hay out of their chain mail, which Merlin could have told them was a hopeless waste of time, but didn't for a moment. Then he coughed to interrupt them, which caused him to cough for real, and at least distracted Leon into thumping him on the back until he stopped coughing.

"Shall we go find the gold, then?" he asked when Merlin had his breath back, and the three trooped off in a randomly chosen direction—that of the cellars, which was where Merlin thought he'd hide gold if he were Morgana.

It turned out his guess was correct, and after hunting through the cellars for a good fifteen minutes, they came across a door that was both locked and guarded. The two guards were already nervous, no doubt having heard the faraway sounds of battle, and after Gwaine and Leon stopped arguing who would take them out (and agreed they'd share, like good knights of the round table) the three charged around the corner, got rid of the guards, and broke down the door.

They looked around the edge of the splintered wooden door with some trepidation, having already been trapped once. There, sitting in the back of the room, in an overtly humble chest, was a whole pile of gold coins. While the knights gawked, Merlin gave it a critical glare. That was going to be _impossible_ to carry! Unless there was a convenient bottomless pit in the same room at the chest...which he doubted.

…

"Well, what do we do now?" Merlin asked.

"I suppose we need to get rid of it somehow—make it so the goblins can't use it," Gwaine said.

"There's a waterfall just outside of the castle," Leon said. "We can drop the gold in there." he stopped as he noticed Gwaine's and Merlin's stares. "Gaius told me that they don't like running water."

"He never told me that!" Merlin said, for some reason looking upset.

"Do you normally ask him about how to defeat goblins?"

"No," Merlin said. If Leon didn't know any better, he would have thought he was lying.

"Well, it looks a bit heavy," Gwaine said. "I'll be amazed to see you carry it all the way to that waterfall, Leon."

"What?"

"You've got to restore your manhood somehow after that scream you gave on your way to the haycart."

"I was cursing! I didn't scream!"

"You did, mate," Gwaine said. "Merlin didn't even scream—he fell like a snowflake compared to you."

"You know, when we get back to Camelot I am going to give you the longest lecture you've ever—"

"Excuse me?" That came from Merlin, and Leon turned to see Merlin standing by the box of gold. "I think it's going to take at least two of us to carry this."

Gwaine gave a "Pfft!" and sauntered over to the chest.

"Merlin's right," Leon said. "It's probably heavier than it—"

Gwaine bent over and picked up the chest, about two inches off the ground.

"You see?" Leon said. "Let me try."

"No, no, I've got this," Gwaine said, grunting with effort as he hauled at the gold chest. Leon rolled his eyes and started shoving from the back. Merlin kept watch.

"It's gone all quiet again," Merlin said, looking around nervously. "Surely Morgana has some more soldiers to throw at us!"

Gwaine shrugged. "I doubt Morgana hires knights of the finest caliber."

"Yeah," Leon said. "Her rent-a-knights probably aren't even of noble birth!"

He laughed, but he was the only one. Merlin and Gwaine were staring at him, looking hurt and offended, respectively.

"Arthur would have laughed," Leon muttered, blushing.

"Shh!" Merlin suddenly said. His large ears looked ready to pick up any sound in Albion. Leon could hear nothing extraordinary, but presently Merlin said, "A regiment of guards—they're coming around that corner," and pointed down the hall they had just entered.

Leon stood up straight. "Right. Merlin, get back, behind the gold. Gwaine, you get in that alcove there, this is a defensible position that we can hold for….Gwaine?"

…

"It's them! Get them!"

_Oh, balls!  
><em>  
>Gwaine was sick of all fighting and faffing around. Not that he didn't <em>like<em>fighting, it was just annoying when you had better things to do. Remembering what Leon had said about rent-a-knights, and banking on the element of surprise working for him, Gwaine drew his sword and charged. "Get that gold out of here!" he shouted at Leon and Merlin's stunned faces.

"Where are you going? Come back!" Leon shrieked at him, but Gwaine was already far down the corridor. He was carrying two swords now, and both were out, he was clanging along in his heavy armor and boots, and dragging the blades along the stone on either side of the corridor to increase the amount of noise he made.

Then he started yelling. No words, really, just yelling, like, "**AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH**!" as he proceeded to round the corner and come face to face with a score of knights.

So he kept running, and he kept screaming.

It was a gut-reaction, he couldn't really blame them. It was funny how just waving your arms around and shouting "Boo!" really _did_ work about 95% of the time. It usually only worked for a few seconds, sure, and it often only made them angrier when they recovered from the shock, but it _worked_.

A few of the front guards yelped and leapt back. Those behind them thought something really scary was after them and started retreating, stepping on those further back, until someone screamed, and by the time the vanguard had realized how ridiculous they looked, the rest of their companions had abandoned them in favor of running down the corridor.

Apparently, this tactic worked _better _in larger, stupider numbers. Gwaine would have to remember that. You know, if he ever got out of this alive.

The thrill was exhilarating: charging down a corridor, twin swords drawn, yelling at the top of his lungs with twenty-odd confused and stupid soldiers stampeding in retreat from an army of one.

Which lasted about all of thirty seconds.

Because of course, when they rounded that last bend, they rediscovered their courage along with their reinforcements, armed with crossbows now, and Gwaine's charging roar of "AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" turned, very quickly, into a genuinely terrified "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

Crossbow bolts flew around him, and Gwaine ducked back. More soldiers tore around that corner, and Gwaine fought them, but apparently they hadn't liked being made to look like fools and cowards, so they were back with a vengeance. And their friends soon joined them from the other direction. And there were no windows in this corridor.

_And who the hell just __**shot**__ a sword out of my hand? No way any of them could aim like that! __**Arthur**__ can't aim like that!  
><em>  
>Gwaine hissed and pulled his right hand in to his chest, held it under his armpit to stop the bleeding, but the left sword was still raised, still keeping the dogs at bay.<p>

"Stand down!" came an authoritative voice echoing down the corridor. "I want this one alive."

_Morgana._

_Oh, damn._

The sea of swords parted, and the Lady Morgana appeared, in all that black lace and sadistically-teased hair. _She_ was holding the crossbow! He glared at her.

She smiled in reply. "Put the sword down, Sir Gwaine."

"I'd rather die," he snarled, trying to sound more sure of that than he felt.

Her eyes glowed gold, and the sword was wrenched from his grasp.

"Well, fine, if you want to play like that," Gwaine grumbled, raising his arms in a petulant surrender.

"Oh, I _always_ want to play like that," Morgana laughed, two-parts threat and one-part promise, as the guards rushed over him.


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N:**__ Warning: This is probably our only chapter with a proper warning, as it contains Dub-Con. Gwaine is captured, and things get serious…but, well, it's _Merlin_, so not too serious! _

…

"Gwaine—? Where are you going? Come back!"

But Leon was cut off as a crossbow bolt flew past his head, and, because Gwaine was no longer in position, he was forced to duck back, dragging Merlin with him. They watched, horrified, as Gwaine alone charged the guards.

"He certainly has courage," Merlin offered, seeing Leon's face.

"A fat lot of good that will do if he gets himself killed," Leon said. He considered his options, but not for long—almost as soon as he was ready to follow Gwaine, more guards poured around the other side of the courtyard. Leon lifted up his sword.

"Merlin, I'm going to have to ask you to do something," Leon said. "Above and beyond the call of duty. Another—thankless task, if you will. I don't know if you can manage, but we've got to try. For the kingdom." He barely kept himself from adding, 'and for Gwaine.'

Merlin, usually all smiles even in situations as sticky as this, grew serious. "What?"

"Someone's got to get that gold to the waterfall, and someone's got to hold off the guards. I can't do both. You'll need to do one while I do the other, then we'll come back for Gwaine." Leon patted Merlin on the back. "This is your moment of glory, Merlin! Can you rise to the challenge?"

…

Merlin did not have to be told twice to get out of the way when he heard the oncoming soldiers. It wasn't like standing behind the chest would do him much good, unless the soldiers decided it would be better to shoot past Leon and Gwaine and at his shins, but he also didn't particularly feel like being stepped on by the two knights.

Anyway, soon enough that didn't matter, because the soldiers were gone, as was Gwaine, leaving Leon and Merlin to stare after him in a moment of shock. They didn't have time to go rescue him just then, though. They'd have to go find him after the gold was gotten rid of. And that was going to be a very serious pain.

This was shortly proven as Merlin tried to lift one side of the chest and subsequently dropped it- right on his toes. Luckily, he was able to yank his foot out from underneath the gold-filled chest. He was still muttering dark, albeit magicless curses at the thing when he realized Leon was talking to him. Another thankless task? Merlin almost grinned, but didn't. Instead, he made an honest attempt to pretend to be as serious as Leon. Had this been Lancelot, he would no doubt have rolled his eyes at him and nonchalantly laid some sort of weight-reducing spell on the chest, and ushered it along as he off-handedly chucked soldiers here and there out of their way. Lancelot would probably have found it amusing.

But this was Leon, and Leon was in serious mode. Anyone else, realizing that Merlin rarely got serious and almost always waited until death was becoming a distinct possibility to do so would have realized he was only pretending to be serious. He pretended to think about Leon's idea for a moment, and then nodded, though he'd made up his mind a whole several seconds earlier.

"You've seen me use a sword, right?" he asked jokingly. Leon looked very uncertain for a moment. Arthur had been letting Merlin train along with them off and on for awhile, but just before the wedding Merlin had nearly taken off his head with a wild swing right as Arthur was walking past. It was a good thing he'd ducked... and then taken away the sword and threatened to throw it at Merlin if he did stay away from anything sharper than a butter knife in his presence.

"Well, I could push the chest... far behind you," Leon said, still giving Merlin a shot at the more glorious job. Merlin appreciated it, but still thought it was a bad idea. Sure, he could take the soldiers out with a wave of his hand, but then Leon might catch him at it.

"I can push the chest. You lead, I'll follow," he said, and Leon nodded, and perhaps let out a relieved breath. Then he went to the door and looked out, while Merlin hurriedly gestured at the chest. His eyes glowed bright gold and when he gave the chest a shove, he nearly ran Leon over with it. Leon looked back, waved him forward, and set off down the hall. They could hear sounds down the opposite direction from the way they went, presumably Gwaine trying to fight off a horde of soldiers single-handedly. As they went, Leon had to take care of several small groups of soldiers on their way to further outnumber Gwaine, but soon they'd reached open air. Leon even helped Merlin haul the chest up the stairs.

When they finally made it out of the castle and to the waterfall, Merlin stopped for a moment to catch his breath and waved the spell off the chest so it would fall like a gold-filled, heavy wooden chest. Leon, having checked that no one was yet onto their cunning plan, turned around and hurriedly gave the chest one last shove over the edge of the waterfall. He and Merlin watched it fall, spilling its contents as it went.

"You're stronger than you look, Merlin. That chest was heavy!" he said, and Merlin just grinned and shook his head as if he was too tired to respond.

"Gwaine? Where do you think they've taken him?" he asked instead, looking up at the castle walls and, beyond that, the main castle towers. Knowing Morgana, she'd have him in the top room of the tallest tower. More stairs. Hurray.

…

To his credit, it took four of them to drag him, kicking and fighting, up the tower. To their credit, they gave him a working over to even up the odds.

Only when something heavy and solid and suspiciously pommel-shaped collided with the back of his head did Gwaine go quietly. And when he had stopped seeing stars, he was alone.

He was chained to a wall, his hands stretched high, pulled nearly taught, above him and attached to a hook that mocked him with how high up it was. He struggled with it a minute, but escape that way wasn't looking promising. His hand, annoyingly, was still bleeding, and it began running down to his elbow. He was otherwise unhurt, though pretty bruised and battered: he concluded, sadly, that he must look worse than he felt. They had taken his armor—he could hear them squabbling over who got to keep it downstairs—and, he had to give them credit, the couple of extra knives he kept on his person for emergencies. They had also taken his shirt, and Gwaine didn't like the very foreign feeling of being _uncomfortable _in this state of undress.

Well, damn. Here he was, like a princess in a bloody tower dungeon...

_Bedroom_?

This was confusing, even startling, for a moment until he realized whose bedroom this probably was, after which point, of course, it made perfect sense, and was even a little lax—where were the thumb screws she kept on her bedside table, and the cat o' nine tails hanging on the wall? He would be disappointed if that "wardrobe" in the corner didn't actually turn out to be an iron maiden.

_You know_, he told himself, _the worse the situation, the worse your jokes get_.

Gwaine was therefore startled out of his thoughts by the shrieking. Morgana sounded really upset, and he chuckled at that: it sounded like a foiled plan, and, hence, a job well done.

_Pints all round and, oh, damn, that's right, none for me, because I am an idiot.  
><em>  
>And when Gwaine heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he was suddenly very aware of another very real problem:<p>

Morgana was very probably very, very angry.

One flash from her eyes confirmed this.

Angry was an understatement.

"Bad day, dear?" Gwaine asked playfully, swinging from his chains. Because when your name is Sir Gwaine of Orkney, why the hell wouldn't you poke a wounded dragon?

She practically snarled at him, knocking over a few vases in her rage, before regaining her composure. She straightened, adjusted her hair, and turned a smile on him that was somehow at least twelve times more frightening than her frown.

"Sir Gwaine," she said, all honey-venom, "so good of you to stay. I'm afraid it appears your friends have abandoned you." She said this last bit with a seductive pout, as if she hoped it would worry him.

"Oh, excellent!" Gwaine replied cheekily. "What's the bad news, then?"

One second, she was half-way across the room, well outside of retaliation-for-taunting range. Then her eyes flashed gold and she was suddenly standing right beside him, and the slapped him _hard _across the face.

"_Ow_! Jesus, lady!"

But the anger was a momentary slip, apparently, and she had returned to all smiles, cool and calm and collected again. The schizophrenia was definitely the scariest part about her.

She raised her hand again, and without meaning to Gwaine flinched, but she was only stroking his hair back from his face. "Now. Since your friends are on their way to Camelot with my gold, and my guards have been sent out after them..." She smiled. Like a shark. "What ever shall we do to pass the time?"

…

"Duck!"

Leon pulled Merlin down behind a bush, watching yet another legion of Morgana's men riding off through Tintagel's gates. For the first time Leon noticed that the bodies of the soldiers he felled while Merlin got rid of the gold had vanished. "That's strange—where did the guards go?" he said, his brow knotted.

"Magic?" Merlin suggested.

"It's possible—they weren't that difficult to kill. And it would explain why there's so many of them." Leon shook his head. "Magic soldiers or no, we have to get back inside that castle."

"Leon," Merlin gulped. "What if Gwaine…?"

"I'm sure he's still alive. Perhaps he's just—taken up a defensible position elsewhere."

Gwaine's current hold on life was affirmed by the sound of a Gwaine shout, faint from the distance but obviously made from the gut, coming from one of the castle towers.

"Oh dear," Merlin said, looking as pale as Leon felt. Did he really think of Gwaine with ambivalence, even aggravation, not twelve hours earlier? But he'd never had a friend like Gwaine before—so loud and forward that you became his friend out of sheer self-preservation. Gwaine made friends so quickly, and he made you think of him as a friend just as fast. It made Leon quite jealous that Gwaine was so personable, but it didn't change the fact that in a few short days Gwaine had made Leon think of him as one of his best friends. It was clear Merlin felt the same way about Gwaine too.

"Don't worry," Leon said. "I'll find him. You stay here."

"A fine job you'll do keeping watch for guards while you're trying to sneak up there by yourself!" Merlin snapped, "I'm coming with you!"

And Leon, unfortunately more used to taking orders from people acting like they were in charge than he wanted to admit, said, "Alright," then added, "But stay close. We're going to scale the walls."

…

Whoa, okay, that was _not_what he had expected.

Gwaine was a straightforward man. He had expected torture. He could handle torture. He was expecting the rack, the hot iron, water boarding, some sort of magic that wracked him with pain but didn't maim him permanently. He even suspected such a thing as a magic truth potion existed, which was the only possibility he was frightened of.

Well, until she went and did _that_.

Until she bloody well _kissed_ him! Out of _nowhere_! Totally unprovoked! Like she had been debating eviscerating him or snogging him and had arbitrarily decided on the latter!

Morgana, as it turned out, was a good kisser, fortunately. _Un_fortunately. Damn! She was smart. She knew he was strong, and even more so he was stubborn. Everyone knew the easiest way to Gwaine's heart was through his—erm, we'll say "heart"—although honestly it wouldn't be too hard to ply him with drink and just get him muddled until he talked—but it was the straightforward "tell me what I need to know and the pain will stop" torture that he was ace against. For whatever sick and twisted reason. And she _knew_ that. And he _hated _that she knew.

After violating his mouth (and him _liking _it!), Morgana pulled back with a smirk, stroking his beard. It gave him the chills.

"God, I hate you," Gwaine ground out.

"Someone likes it rough then?" she was practically giggling, plucking absently at hairs on his chest as she continued, "there will be plenty of time for pillow-talk later—"

"'Pillow talk'?" Gwaine flinched. How did she even know what that was? He needed to stop with his erroneous assumptions that all nobility were virgins and monks.

"Guard shifts, passwords, the usual, Sir Gwaine. But all that..." Morgana nibbled on his ear, "can wait..."

Gwaine threw his head back against the stone wall with a groan of despair and…something else. He had never been so repulsed by someone morally and so attracted to them physically in his entire history of physically attractive and morally unattractive bedmates. What could he say? He had a thing for bad girls.

And if Morgana was any indication, the badder the better. His revulsion of her black heart, her misuse of sorcery, her evil ambitions, everything she was and stood for that was opposite to him only made him more attracted to her. Like a moth to a flame. And then to seal it, his own self-loathing kicked in which only made him even _more_…

Sleepy…

Wait, what?

This was startling, frightening even. The room was spinning. There were at least two Morganas undressing in front of him.

Undressing? Oh, man, she...

_Oh, man..._

"Whaddidjoo…doooo?" Gwaine slurred.

Oh, God! A truth potion? A sleeping spell? More likely it was whatever rufies the kids who couldn't get laid were using these days, because Gwaine Jr., treacherous little bugger, certainly was _not_sleepy.

"Oh, come, now, Gwaine, relax. This is supposed to be enjoyable…"

Gwaine was distantly wondering if he could bite his tongue off before he could be made to talk, but when she kissed him again he could hardly think of anything at all, and he forgot all plans of defiance. He forgot that he was a Knight of the Round Table, he forgot that this was a woman who had already slept with half the royal court of Camelot, he forgot that he was in an enemy castle chained to a wall, he forgot that she was trying to get information out of him.

"Cert'nly gonnaget…ssssomthin'," he told her, and, grinning sloppily, Gwaine knew no more.


	19. Chapter 19

It was possible that, had Merlin known that he was going to have to scale several stories of a rocky wall, he wouldn't have volunteered quite so enthusiastically to accompany him. As soon as night fell, the two snuck back into the castle, with much less noise and hubbub than they'd created the first time. The two stood staring up at, of course, the top room of the tallest tower. Merlin sighed. Had he really complained to the universe about more stairs?

"You go up first," Leon said, still looking doubtfully, albeit gamely, at the tower. Merlin turned and looked at him.

"Shouldn't you go first, in case there are armed guards at the window?" he asked, and Leon gave it a moments' thought.

"We'll both go up at the same time," he said finally.

It didn't, in fact, work quite like that. Merlin, lacking the hindrance of armor and in almost full confidence that, if worst came to worse, he could catch himself if he fell, got ahead of Sir Leon, who was picking his way carefully up the tower. He soon got stuck, however, when the large rough stones at the base of the tower gave way to more polished, smaller stones higher up. He paused and looked around for a foothold, and Leon, watching from below, also paused and seemed to look for a foothold from his own perspective.

"Try that rock to your right, Merlin. No, wrong rock," he shouted up as Merlin tried to figure out which, of all the twenty five or so rocks in his vicinity, Leon was talking about.

"Not that one either. The round one, Merlin!" Leon said, sounding frustrated.

"They're all _round_, Sir Leon," he said, and finally found one he thought he could reach. He managed to hook his foot on it and gained about two feet up the tower for his trouble.

"Reach for that one that's sticking out to your—" Sir Leon started, then stopped, and Merlin rested his head none too gently against the rock wall. He clearly should have let Leon go first. As he rested his forehead against the wall, he heard Leon talking. Again. Obligingly, Merlin started reaching for the only rock he saw sticking out to any side, but Leon grunted at him and he paused mid-reach.

"No, put your foot there. To the left. To your other left. Wait. No, that was a bad idea, go back."

"I _can't,"_ Merlin half-shouted in complete frustration, now stuck clinging to the wall very precariously. He took a deep breath and reached up, and holding on to a rock that was jutting out, was able to pull his other leg closer to himself so he didn't go keeling off the wall. Leon was still shouting suggestions which were of no help whatsoever.

"Sir Leon, perhaps you should concentrate on your part of the wall," Merlin said finally, trying to make it sound like a suggestion instead of him telling one of the knights of Camelot to sod off. Luckily Sir Leon didn't seem to mind overmuch, or if he did he said nothing, and Merlin heard him clambering further up the wall. The way was easier going after Merlin made it up a few more feet, and so he stopped and clung closely to the wall to rest and wait for Leon to catch up. Looking down, he saw the knight struggling with the same foothold.

"See that round one to your right?" Merlin asked with a wicked grin, unable to resist. Leon looked up and glared at him for a moment.

"Merlin, shut up," he said, but there wasn't much anger in it. Merlin chuckled and went back to looking at the last third of the wall. It didn't look too difficult to climb, which was a relief because his arms and legs were beginning to feel wobbly.

As he looked up at the rest of the wall, Leon finally caught up with him and passed him without a single word, grumbling something under his breath about stall-mucking manservants. He got stuck another foot up.

"Did you miss stone wall scaling practice or something?" Merlin hollered up good-naturedly, unaware that Leon had done just that. It shortly seemed he'd tested Leon's patience in a way only one other person had so far managed- and that person was currently being held prisoner at the top of this tower.

"_I said shut up_!" Leon shouted down, then looked surprised at his own volume and climbed spitefully and perhaps recklessly the last few feet to wedge himself under the sill. Merlin, stunned into silence by being shouted at by the knight who never shouted, and storing it in his head later to tell Gwaine, who would no doubt find it incredibly amusing, climbed the rest of the way in silence and also stopped under the sill, looking expectantly at Leon. The knight still looked very irritated, so Merlin attempted one of his patented winning smiles. He got an eyeroll in response.

"So, what's the plan," he whispered, though why they were bothering to be quiet now was beyond him. Surely they'd awakened half the castle with all their hollering and shouting and that last positively bombastic shout of Leon's.

As if on cue, some ambitious soldier's arrow came whizzing up from down below and shattered off the bottom of the windowsill, right in between Leon and Merlin's faces. Both of them yanked back, and Merlin yelped as a little sliver of wood nipped his fingers. Well, so much for surprising Morgana.

…

Leon resented having to look at Merlin's backside as he climbed, and he didn't appreciate Merlin's attitude one bit, either. Of course Leon knew how to climb a stone wall. All that kind of thing was a part of basic training before you were even considered for knighthood. Admittedly, it had been a while since basic training. A long while. What was it...five years? Ten? No, he wasn't that old, surely—it couldn't have been more than ten years ago…!

He stopped those thoughts quickly, scrambling ahead of Merlin for the last third of the wall despite his fingers slipping dangerously on the slick stone. When he got to the top he wedged himself under the windowsill, panting. Just then an arrow splintered the window sill above them, and Leon grabbed Merlin protectively as he yelped and almost let go.

"In you get, you great squirrel," Leon said, helping to haul Merlin up and over the sill. In a moment Leon pulled himself inside as well.

The room as dimly lit with candles that had almost burnt out. Gwaine was lying unconscious in a bed.

"Vile woman!" Leon seethed as he ran over to Gwaine. "What has she done to him?"

"There's more guards assembling," Merlin said, looking out the window. "I think the alarm's been raised."

"Then we haven't much time." Leon patted Gwaine's face. "Gwaine? Gwaine!"

Gwaine's eyes opened slowly. "Thass _Sir _Gwaine to…" he blinked, fuzzily. "Mrgna?"

"No, it's Leon! Are you hurt?"

Gwaine just grinned. "Oh! Hello!"

Leon sighed. He could recognize the signs of drunk Gwaine from a hundred paces. He pulled the blanket off Gwaine. "Come on, we've got to—Oh!—God!—" he dropped the blanket and looked away. Merlin's eyes got wide and he laughed hysterically.

Gwaine, was, of course, completely naked. He seemed to be the only one comfortable with this.

"Look—" Leon stammered, grabbing a pair of trousers from the floor. Still not looking at Gwaine, Leon started to dress him. "Get these on! Quick!"

Gwaine appeared to be confused. "What?"

"Quick!"

"Why?"

"You're in great peril!"

"No, I'm not!"

Leon grabbed Gwaine's face, looking him in the eye for a moment. "That vile temptress has poisoned your mind! We've got to get out before the guards overwhelm us by sheer numbers!"

"Look," Gwaine said, matter-of-factly, "There's nothing wrong—I'm fine!"

As if on cue, the room was filled with arrows, at first just from the window, then from the door to the stairs. Merlin jumped to the door and locked it as Leon pulled Gwaine out of the way of an oncoming arrow.

"I can tackle this lot single-handedly!" Gwaine insisted.

"We arrived in the nick of time and you know it! She—" Leon tried to think of a way to put this delicately (after all, Merlin was still a young man with probably some innocence intact). He settled again with, "You're in great peril!"

"I don't think I am…"

Leon ignored him, and poked his head up over the side of the bed, where he observed Merlin standing with his back against the door, and a perfect outline of arrows around him. That boy had some serious good luck.

"Did you see how many of them were below us?" Leon asked. "I don't think we can go through the door, now."

…

_Great squirrel?_ Merlin thought as he scrambled over the windowsill and dropped into the room, stepping out of the way so Leon wouldn't land on him. _What kind of insult is that? _He shook his head, looking hastily around for Morgana or a small army of hired soldiers. There was no one. No soldiers, no Morgana. There was Gwaine, he noticed as Leon ran over to see if there was anything really wrong with the other knight. Merlin moved back over to the window and, sure enough, there were soldiers gathering, more than there'd been a moment before. He stuck his head out to count them and hastily yanked it back in the room. One of those archers was a pretty good shot, to have nearly hit him twice.

He turned around just in time to see Leon yanking the blanket off of Gwaine, who hadn't a stitch of clothing on him. The look on the older knight's face, the complete horror at Gwaine being completely naked, was absolutely priceless. He laughed hysterically and considered giving Leon a hard time, but Leon had enough to deal with trying to get drunk—_or enchanted?_—Gwaine dressed so they could escape. And shortly, Merlin had his own problems to deal with, as a rain of arrows came flying through the door and buried themselves in the recently-vacated bed, as well as bedposts, the door, and shattered on the floor. In typical Merlin fashion, he bounded across the room and slammed the door shut, throwing the latch and heaving a deep breath before he glanced away and noticed Leon staring at him. He looked back at the door and saw a perfect outline of himself. Ah. Well, surely he could come up with a likely explanation for that. The melted door lock he blocked with his arm. No one would be coming in this door unless they broke it down.

He looked at Gwaine, who at least had figured out the trousers but was looking at the shirt like he had no idea what it was for. Sometimes Arthur looked at tunics like that when Merlin threw them at him. To him.

"Sir Gwaine, it goes over your head. Not the armhole, the head hole," he informed the knight, who turned the shirt around til he found the head hole and put the shirt on. Backwards. Clothes were apparently very confusing things for Gwaine. He went back over to the window and very cautiously looked out, while Leon bickered with Gwaine about boots and socks over by the bed. Apparently one of the socks was missing, not under the bed, not in the boot. Merlin looked around the room, saw a chest much like the one Arthur kept next to his bed, and went over to it.

"There are about twenty, and more running up, mostly armed with swords," he said, his voice muffled as he kneeled down to look under the chest. Sure enough, one sock. How in the world... He didn't even want to know.

"Here," he said a bit grimly, wadding the sock up and chucking it across the room. It hit Leon in the face, which in any other circumstance would have put Merlin in stitches of laughter. Right now, he was trying to figure out how to take care of 30 men without Leon or Gwaine of both finding out exactly how he'd done it.

"We can't go out the door. We'll have to jump, I think," he said. They were going to land on really hard ground if they did that, and maybe a few soldiers and assorted pointy bits of metal. Where was a haycart when you needed it?

Then it dawned on him. Standing on the right side of the window and looking out without sticking his head out the window, he could just barely see what he thought might be a cart of some kind, maybe the one they'd landed in earlier. He couldn't be sure. But he gave it a disconcerting yellow glare and the wheels slowly creaked into motion. Had the soldiers below not been making a racket, they would have heard, far up the street, the creaking and clattering of wheels.

…

Leon looked by the shoes for the other sock, but it wasn't there. He looked by the trousers. Not there, either. How very odd. Socks didn't just disappear like this—it was almost like magic...

"Here," Merlin said, producing a sock seemingly out of thin air. Leon took it without question and finished dressing Gwaine, who was still difficult to manage considering that he was reaching for the door so he could "get perilous" with Lady Morgana (Leon would regret using that as his code word for weeks…)

"Let me get in there and face the peril!" Gwaine insisted. He was on his stomach on the bed, reaching for the door. Leon sat on him, forcing the boot on his foot.

"No, it's too perilous!" he said, because there wasn't much else to say. "Now, come on…"

As Leon dragged Gwaine to his feet, he pondered their options. The door was certainly out of the question. Another door, then. He looked around, but there was no other door. He glanced at the window.

Merlin voiced what Leon was beginning to imagine. "We'll have to jump, I think."

Leon glanced out the window to see if this was even feasible. After all, there had to be a lot of archers down there to fire off that many arrows…

He looked down, and saw nothing but a lonely haycart rolling to a stop far down below, a plethora of soldiers lying unconscious in its wake. Not just some of the soldiers, all of them. Leon blessed their good fortune (and Morgana's odd obsession with leaving hay carts lying around). Still, even from this height a haycart just wouldn't do. They were seven floors up.

There was the waterfall, though. They could probably make it if they jumped out far enough.

"You're right. We're going to have to jump." He smiled at Gwaine and beckoned him forward. "Come on, Gwaine, up you come."

Gwaine had flattened himself against the door, and was pulling at the door handle. He seemed unable to undo the lock. "Here, now…I really think I could just go downstairs and—"

Leon, still smiling, grabbed him and marched him over to the window sill. "Come on, you've had _lots _of training falling from windows, haven't you?..."

"Er—well—yes, but I said I was sorry, and—"

"—and I think I could forgive you for that after this."

Gwaine was trapped between the window and an advancing Leon. "It's seven floors! Seven _English_ floors! Which means _eight_!"

"Don't worry—you'll fall like a snowflake."

At which point Leon pushed him out the window. Gwaine screamed, but only around half-way down, when his bravery ran out before the fall did. It was extinguished with a sploosh as Gwaine fell in the water.

Leon and Merlin quickly followed, just as the guards managed to push through the door. On the way down Leon managed to free himself of his greaves so that he was at least a little lighter when he hit the water. After a few moments struggle under the surface he managed to push himself to the surface and struggle to the shore. Merlin had already climbed out of the water, not burdened down with armor.

"You alright?" Merlin asked.

Leon nodded, then noticed Gwaine struggling in the water a few feet away and quickly pulled him out.

"Alright, Gwaine?" Merlin asked as Gwaine spat out lake water. Gwaine nodded, looking as if the water woke him up considerably as he staggered to shore.

"Well," Leon said, smiling and pushing his wet hair out of his face. "That went surprisingly well." He turned to Gwaine. "So, Gwaine—do you remember anything?"

Gwaine appeared to give this question some deep thought, his characteristic pout spreading across his face. At length he said, "It's a bit of a blur. I do remember one thing, though."

"Oh? What?"

"Eight floors."

And Gwaine punched Leon in the face.


	20. Chapter 20

_"Before you slip into unconsciousness  
>I'd like to have another kiss<br>Another flashing chance at bliss  
>Another kiss, another kiss..."<em>

It was half past two in the morning, and Gwaine felt great. He was running on zero sleep in three days. He was slightly buzzed thanks to Leon's generous pocketbook. He was thoroughly bruised and battered and sore—all over—but was in a warm state somewhere far past caring. He was singing one of the slow end-of-the-night songs, and was leaning heavily on the megaphone-stand. The injury to his right hand prevented him from hammering on the lyre tonight, but he'd be damned if, like Leon, he was going to miss out on yet another session of Friday Knights. Especially after such an ordeal: he needed it more than he needed that enormous trough of stew and nine pints of ale. He needed the distraction:

_"The days are bright and filled with pain  
>Enclose me in your gentle rain<br>The time you ran was too insane  
>We'll meet again, we'll meet again..."<br>_  
>The crowning glory of the past few days had to have been pounding the living hell out of Leon after the smug bastard and his weaselly little accomplice had—well, okay, fine, <em>rescued <em>him—but that didn't make throwing him out twelve floors (the story grew in the telling) acceptable by even his own loose standards of acceptability. Ah, Blondie had it coming, although he seemed far too put out by it now. Gwaine would have to talk to him.

_"Oh tell me where your freedom lies  
>The streets are fields that never die<br>Deliver me from reasons why  
>You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly..."<br>_  
>Being on the stage, in front of the usual crowd, with the usual companions at his back, was a comforting place to be also because Gwaine was really, <em>really <em>trying not to think about what had happened in Morgana's castle. Oh, sure, he played it off as another conquest to the lads—she got him a little bit tipsy, but it doesn't take much to reduce the walls of Sir Gwaine's inhibitions to rubble now, does it? It wasn't as if he told her any of Camelot's secrets, now, had he? And he'd gotten a good night out of it—Gwaine was lying when he said he remembered this, too. Sleeping with the enemy didn't bother him, oh, no, he was a red-blooded man, after all, not a wilty, sensitive soul like Leon or Lance, with, you know, standards and self-control and things, no, not Sir Gwaine! He did what he liked, damn the consequences!

Only, it did frustrate him reconciling who exactly had seduced whom...

_"The crystal ship is being filled  
>A thousand girls, a thousand thrills<br>A million ways to spend your time  
>When we get back, I'll drop a line."<br>_  
>Gwaine almost staggered as he took his last bow and good old Stuart gave last call, but Percival grabbed him by the arm to keep him from falling.<p>

"All right, Gwaine, that's enough fun for you tonight..." he said, guiding him back to the table where Leon and Merlin sat. Merlin was nursing a tankard of mead. Leon was nursing a black eye the size of Gwaine's fist.

Gwaine was plopped down in the seat next to Leon and, miraculously, thanks to some kind, kind, blessed, wonderful soul—Lancelot—_dammit_—another ale appeared in front of him.

As the other boys set to putting up the instruments the three were left alone, it seemed, for the first time since they had gotten back this afternoon. Leon glared at him from under the steak he was pressing against his face.

Gwaine grinned sleepily at him, bear foam coating his beard. "Oh, stop looking at me like a wounded girl, Leon. What's a few blows between friends?" he laughed.

"A lot," Leon replied dourly.

Merlin seemed either to be choking or pretending that wasn't funny. He covered this up by blurting out, "Well anyway it's a good job Morgana was so ill-prepared for the likes of us!" He grinned adorably.

Gwaine had some reservations about that, actually, though he didn't voice them just now. All he said, giving Merlin a queer look, was, "Yeah, good job..."

Merlin looked like a baby dear startled by lantern-light.

But Leon jolted, just then, as if remembering something he had forgotten to do—

"The King!" he exploded. "Merlin, I apologize for keeping you from your duties...we can send you with an escort first thing in the morning."

Merlin frowned, looking at his emptying tankard, trying not to let it show on his face how much fun he was having here and how disappointed he would be to be made to go back to third-wheeling it up when Gwen was perfectly capable of looking after Arthur... "You're right," Merlin sighed, duty-bound. "I should go back."

There was a thoughtful pause.

Gwaine was the first to snort, loudly. The idea was preposterous! And soon, Leon and Merlin were laughing, too, and all thoughts of Merlin leaving and going back to wait on the two Queens was soon washed down with the ale.

"All right, Merlin," Gwaine said, in a down-to-business voice he rarely used. "I think I need you to walk me home."

The I'm-a-cute-baby-deer-please-don't-eat-me look appeared again on Merlin's face. "Oh, I, no, see, rather, um, Gaius needs me to wash his turtle..."

"Merlin."

"Yeah?"

"Please take him off my hands, just for one night," Leon practically begged.

Gwaine winked gratefully at Leon, though he was pretty sure the other knight missed it (as, apparently, he missed most things). Even if just to Gwaine, Merlin had some explaining to do...

…

THE END

…

_**A/N**__: Thanks for sticking with us! Thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, etc. Thanks to my co-authors, B. A. Murdock (who wrote for Leon) and Caitydid (who wrote for Merlin). That's the end of this adventure, but you can read about the further adventures of Leon, Gwaine, Merlin, and the rest of the Camelot crowd in the next _**Friday Knights**_ story where war is averted, Merlin and Gwaine have a Talk, and Leon and Lancelot meet some guy called Sir Galehaut. Will Merlin reveal his magic? Will Leon ever finish that Steward's Log he started? Find out in _"**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**."__


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